Reflections of My Future Self
by starry-oblivion
Summary: Caught in a troubled relationship, Raphael has a lot on his mind. This makes him and his brothers completely unprepared for what happens when they attempt to relax one weekend at a comic convention. [Final segment in my Reflections trilogy. Raph x OC]
1. Chapter 1

"Knock-knock. Anybody home?"

Allison poked her head out from underneath her comforter. Looking up, she caught sight of the one person that she had expressly asked to stay away from her. "Raphael," she muttered, sinking back under the covers, "when are you going to learn that, just because a girl's window is open, it doesn't mean that she wants visitors?"

Tearing the comforter away, Raphael remarked, "And when are _you_ gonna learn that I don't really care what you want?" His eyes widened slightly when he saw her bare legs. As she angrily snatched her comforter back from him and covered herself once more, he asked, "So, when'd you stop wearing pajamas to bed?"

"A tank top and underwear are perfectly acceptable pajamas," she growled at him. She looked up at him, meaning to tell him to leave, but stopped when she saw that he had a small plastic container in his hand. "What's that?"

Raphael looked down at it before awkwardly offering it to her. "You know how Donnie gets," he explained. "Once he heard you were sick, he started guilt trippin' me to come 'n bring ya something. I told him you didn't want to see me, but he _forced_ me. Nearly took my shell off, callin' me insensitive 'n junk." As she took it, he said, "It's chicken noodle soup, minus the chicken. Donnie said he didn't trust me to actually know anything about cooking meat. Funny guy, ain't he?"

Allison couldn't help but crack a smile. She knew that Donatello probably put the idea in Raphael's head, but the latter turtle was most likely the one who took the initiative. Not that he would ever _admit_ to such a thing, of course. "Thanks, Raphael," she told him warmly. "I'm trying to go vegetarian, anyway."

Raphael smiled with relief when he saw that Allison wasn't angry with him, as he had feared. Seeing the turtle's relief, Allison's smile grew. This only made Raphael break into a grin, and he knew he had to get away before things got sickeningly cheesy. "Right. A spoon. You need one. I'll go get one. Kitchen's still in the same place, right?"

"It didn't go anywhere," she called after him as he left the room. Looking down at the plastic container of soup, Allison sat up and brushed her tangled hair out of her face. _Out of all of the __boyfriends__ I've had_, she realized, _this is the first one that actually cooks for me. Wow, I should've turned my back on human men ages ago._

She still felt a hot blush rise up to her cheeks whenever she thought of the turtle as her "boyfriend." Allison was thankful that she didn't have very many friends, so she didn't have an abundance of questions to answer about who she was dating and how she met him. _Yup, just your typical case of a mutant turtle getting shot in an alleyway while protecting you, thus leading you off into an adventure where you temporarily mutated into an evil giant rat and nearly became the property of a black ops government agency before everything turned back to normal. It's only natural that romantic feelings would blossom._

Even after nearly half a year, Allison found it difficult to believe that she was dating a turtle. She hardly thought about it in that way at all, except when her best friend Robert kept pestering her about when he was going to meet the "new boy." She had had to lie about Raphael's age, profession, and… well, pretty much his entire identity. The best part of the entire thing was, Raphael still had no idea. At least, he didn't have any idea _yet_.

She took a deep breath as she saw him come back in, a spoon and napkin in one hand. "Here," Raphael said, offering them to her. "You ain't contagious or nuthin', are ya?" Smiling absently, she shook her head as she moved over, giving him room to sit besides her. As he did so, he regarded her with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"What do you mean, what?"

"Kid, any other time I'd ask ya somethin' like that, you'd mutter some backhanded comment about chivalry being dead or somethin'." Leaning back against the headboard without removing his eyes from her, he told her, "Ya didn't turn down the chance to be rich 'n famous in Hollywood just to come back to New York and hold out on me, did you?"

She looked at him carefully. After writing a surprisingly successful film based on her experiences with Raphael and his brothers, Allison had realized that staying in the spotlight would make it harder and harder for her to spend time with the friends who helped inspire the movie in the first place. As such, she packed up her belongings and moved back to New York, deciding to fall into relative obscurity by writing comic books that were illustrated by Robert.

"No," she answered, looking down. "I, um… it's nothing. I've just been thinking about Robert a lot lately." Knowing how close the two of them were, Raphael asked if he was all right. Allison replied that he was. Thinking for a moment, Raphael inquired after Rosalind, Robert's two-year-old daughter. "Yeah, yeah, they're okay. Really. I'm… well…."

Motioning towards the container in Allison's hand, Raphael told her, "Eat your soup. Your voice sounds all congested." He was already moving to get up when he added that he was going to get her a couple of Sudafed.

"Raphael, wait." He stopped at the sound of her voice. Allison had put the container down on the night table and was sitting a little more straight. "Actually, I've got something I want to talk to you about." Raphael looked at her levelly before telling her that it could wait until she had some medicine. Before Allison could say anything else, he was gone.

Leaning back, she wondered what would be the best way to phrase this. Telling him flat-out that Robert knew that she was in a relationship with someone named Raphael would get him a little testy. Adding that Robert believes that this Raphael was a twenty-six year old fight choreographer that she met on the set of her film might get him a little more annoyed. However, adding that Robert had vowed never to speak to her again if she didn't introduce him to her "new boy" before the big comic convention the following week might just influence Raphael to skip town for a while.

"So what's eatin' you?" Allison looked up as Raphael came back into the room, a glass of water in one hand and two Sudafed in the other. He sat back next to her as he dropped the aspirin in her hand. "And speakin' of eatin', I didn't make that soup just so you could let it get cold."

Though she was still worried about Raphael's reaction to Robert wanting to meet him, Allison couldn't help but be amused by Raphael's uncharacteristically nurturing behavior. "Easy, Raphael," she joked. "It's only a mild sinus infection; the way you're treating me, you'd think I was _dying_ or something."

"Kid, it's okay for _me_ to change the subject. _You_, not so much."

"Why's that?"

"Because I said so. Now eat your soup and tell me what's botherin' ya."

She gave him a wry look as she reached over for the soup. "I'm not bothered," she said. She put a spoonful of soup in her mouth and was glad that she had a good deal of acting training. The noodles weren't fully cooked. _Raphael,_ she thought, doing a grand job at covering it up. _Impatient as always._ "I just… I guess I'm in a little bit of a funk, that's all."

Raphael asked her why, and she decided that there was only one way to go about this. Make something up and string him along. It worked well enough in her stories. "Well, I've been sick for two days and even before then, I hadn't seen your brothers for nearly a week. I know that you guys are busy saving the world and everything, and I don't want to seem like the stupidly possessive girlfriend, but I miss you. And not just you. I haven't gone for training with Leonardo in weeks."

"Yeah, about that," Raphael interrupted, "Leo says he hopes you're still doing your daily _katas_. And don't expect him to take it easy on you when you get back. He didn't say that last bit; I'm just speakin' from experience."

"Thanks for the warning," Allison replied with a small laugh. "Anyway, I was thinking… next weekend, Robert and I managed to get a table at the New York Comic Convention. I know how much Mike likes comics and everything, and I'm sure there's plenty of stuff there to keep Leonardo and Donatello entertained… so maybe a little excursion is in order for us to all get back together. A little quality time with the buds, you know?"

Raphael raised an eye ridge at the suggestion, and Allison had another mouthful of undercooked noodle soup. "Right," Raphael answered, "that sounds like a grand ol' time. Exceptin' that you forgot one thing. If my brothers and I go out there, we're bound to stick out like, I dunno, _mutant turtles in Times Square_!"

"Actually," Allison brought up with a weak smile, "it's in the Jacob Javits Center." Raphael was about to argue about it, but she dropped her spoon and put a hand on his arm. "Come on, Raphael, _please_? I'm stuck there all weekend, and Rob already told me to expect a bunch of fans of _The Sewer Dwellers_ to harass me, whining about why I'm not making a sequel. If I have to put up with that, then I at least want to be amused with seeing you guys pop in and out of the crowd. Come on, most of the people who go to these conventions wear weird, elaborate costumes anyway. You could just say that you're cosplaying as the turtle creatures from _Sewer Dwellers_."

"I'm _what_-playing?"

Allison sighed. "Talk it over with Mikey. I'm sure he'd love it. I can buy you guys passes to get in and everything. Have Donatello pull up a review from previous conventions, and you'll see; this'll be great fun."

Raphael had his arms crossed over his chest, looking away. After a while, he mentioned, "I'll consider it… but this better not be the stage in the game where you're tryin' to go about introducin' me to your friends." Allison almost choked on another spoonful of soup. Raphael gazed at her from the corner of his eye. "Bingo."

"Raph, what did you expect?" Allison put the soup down again, her head pounding. This was going to turn into an argument. She just _knew_ it. "We've been sorta kinda 'official' for a long time and Rob's been wondering why I don't date anyone anymore and… well… it kinda slipped out one night."

Raphael asked her how much Robert knew, and Allison told him every detail of the situation, from the fake birthday she had given him to the supposed panic attacks that kept him from meeting too many people. Raphael put his head in his hands. "Jeez, kid, did ya _have_ to make me nearly ten years older than what I actually am?"

"Of course not," she replied sarcastically. "I'm sure Robert would have taken the fact that I'm dating a seventeen-year-old _very_ well." Raphael muttered something about it being legal in _some_ countries and Allison couldn't keep back a laugh. "Yeah, but _most_ aspects of our relationship are only legal in _some_ countries."

Raphael said nothing for a while. Allison tensed up, waiting for the explosion. It was bound to happen. She had told someone about Raphael's existence, which in itself could be seen as a form of betrayal. And though it didn't feel as though she had done anything wrong, at the same time… it _did_.

"Okay," Raphael finally relented, standing up. Allison blinked up at him in surprise as he turned to face her. "Why not? Seems like fun. But the minute Rob decides that he wants to see me without my 'mask' on, I'm drop kickin' the _both _of ya and stormin' outta there. I'll go home and run the idea past the guys. I'll give ya a call later with the rundown, okay?"

"O… okay," Allison answered quietly. Clearing her throat, she remarked, "You're taking this rather well. I kind of expected to be screamed at over how stupid and irresponsible I was." It only made her the more uncomfortable when Raphael grinned.

"Why would I go and do a thing like that," he asked, "when I can leave that to Leo?" Allison uttered a small, scared sound. She realized that it was true. Though Raphael was probably miffed at having a persona made up for him and having to live a lie for a while, Leonardo was definitely more likely to get on her case when he found out. Maybe she could hide behind Michelangelo's shell for the weekend.

"Have some pleasant dreams thinkin' about that," Raphael smirked, noting her reaction. He reached down and squeezed her shoulder. "It'll be nice to see Leo yellin' at someone that ain't me, for a change." Turning, he waved at her over his shoulder as he said, "Expect a call from me later, kid. Take care 'a yourself."

Still puzzled as to why Raphael would submit himself to a comic convention, Allison watched as he leapt out of the window.

* * *

"Ha! In your face, Donnie!" 

Donatello put down the controller and gaped at the screen. This was the third game of _Soul Caliber _in a row that he lost to Michelangelo, an unprecedented record. "I don't get it," he murmured as Michelangelo commenced a "victory dance" in front of the screen. "You don't even know what you're doing half the time. You just come at me and press buttons at random!"

Michelangelo ceased his jig and looked at Donatello reproachfully. "That's not true! Totally not true! I beat ya fair and square with Maxi's pure soul loop! You can't just stand there blocking all day and expect to not lose HP! C'mon, you're smarter than that, Donnie! Just because you know how to put up a good block doesn't mean the game's yours!"

Donatello calmly stood up and turned off the game and television. "You're calling me too passive, huh? Saying I should instigate an attack every once and a while?" Michelangelo, oblivious as he was, passionately agreed. Without warning, Donatello unsheathed his bo staff and jabbed Michelangelo in the stomach. "Like that?"

"Oof!" Michelangelo put an arm around his stomach, then raised an eye ridge at his brother. "So that's how it is, huh? Wanna bring the Maxi versus Kilik fight out into the real world?" As Donatello twirled his bo with a smirk, Michelangelo withdrew his nunchucks. "All right, smart guy. Can you say, "Mortal Kombat?'"

Donatello easily evaded a lunge from Michelangelo, using his bo as a javelin to swing him towards Michelangelo's back. Using his momentum, he kicked Michelangelo in the shell, forcing him into a stumble. "Heh," Donatello remarked after landed agilely on his feet. "You were right, Mikey. It _is_ fun to attack once in a while."

Annoyed by his brother's flippant attitude, Michelangelo turned back to face him. "Okay, buddy boy. You're aiming to get a glimpse at _Mikey's_ pure soul loop. Get ready for-"

"Michelangelo!" Both turtles put their weapons down at the sound of their sensei's voice. Splinter was standing behind the sofa, staring at them sternly. "What exactly _is_ it that Donatello should be getting ready for?"

Not wanting to get in trouble, Michelangelo put his weapons away as he said, "Uh… not sure, Sensei." With an exaggerated yawn, he said, "But _man_, I know _I_ should be getting ready for bed. Yup. Nice, calm, peaceful bed." Splinter was clearly unconvinced, so Michelangelo offered him a wide grin and a wave as the turtle headed towards his bedroom.

On his way out, Michelangelo crashed in Raphael. "Well, look here," Raphael muttered, pushing Michelangelo back into the room. "Just the bonehead I wanted to talk to." Michelangelo widened his eyes and proclaimed that he was innocent, he swore! "Nuthin' like that, shell-for-brains. Just sit down and tell me what you know about the New York Comic Convention."

"NYCC?" Michelangelo asked, confused but still excited. "Only that it's the most _awesome_ convention in the history of ever. They air some of it on TV every year. Should be coming up in the next couple of weeks or so, I think. Why?"

Raphael crossed his arms over his chest as Michelangelo acquiesced to sit down on the sofa. Having put his bo away, Donatello sat besides Michelangelo, their prior spat forgotten after the unexpected question from Raphael. "Well," Raphael finally replied, "turns out that Allison and Rob have some kinda table over there-"

"Allison's gonna be at the New York Comic Con?!" Michelangelo asked incredulously. "What, is she a panelist? Does that mean that Rob's gonna be on the Artist's Alley, drawing pictures of _us_? Cuz, I mean, he _did_ do the graphic novelization of _The Sewer Dwellers_ and Allison gave him some pretty specific details-"

"That's kinda the point, chowderhead," Raphael broke in gruffly. "She wants us to go. All of us." Michelangelo and Donatello stared at him blankly. Splinter asked why she would want them to go along to such a crowded event. Deciding against stating the real reason while Splinter was in the room, Raphael shrugged. "I dunno. She says she hasn't seen us in a while and really doesn't wanna be stuck answering stupid questions at a table all weekend. She figured we'd enjoy it, and we'd help break up the monotony or somethin'."

"Dude," Michelangelo breathed after processing all of this. "I am _so_ cosplaying as Maxi! And Donnie could cosplay Kilik and we could finish off this battle in front of witnesses so you can't fudge the facts, bro."

"What the shell is cosplaying?" Raphael asked.

"Right Mikey," Donatello answered, ignoring Raphael's question. "Because there's an alternate dimension in the _Soul Caliber_ universe in which all of the characters temporarily turn into turtles." Michelangelo looked at him with surprise before recognizing the sarcasm in his brother's voice. "If we end up going," Donatello continued as Michelangelo became disappointed, "then we'd already be dressed up. As the 'fictional characters' from Allison's movie. It'd be a heck of a risk, Raph. Are you sure she wants us to go?"

"Where are we going?" Raphael looked back to see Leonardo enter the room, having just finished cleaning his blades. "I could have sworn I heard something about that silly video game just a little bit ago. Don't tell me they came out with _another_ sequel that Mikey just 'has' to get the day it comes out?"

His arms still crossed defensively over his chest, Raphael explained that Allison had invited the group of them to a comic convention. "I _guess_ that sounds like fun," Leonardo said after a moment's deliberation. Catching sight of his brothers gawking at him in shock, Leonardo widened his eyes. "What? It _is_ supposed to be fun, right?"

"Michelangelo," Splinter spoke up, "what happens at these 'comic conventions?'" Michelangelo explained that the premise was pretty simple: you can talk to artists, writers, actors, or other people along that vein, attend informative panels, buy comics and related merchandise, and just hang around and admire the costumes that people made. Splinter thought about this for a moment, but offered no argument.

The turtles were silent for a while, considering the option. Judging by what he knew from television, Leonardo didn't consider this to be a major danger. From what he's seen, people _do_ come up with some amazing costumes at these conventions, sometimes dedicating months just to show off their talents during this one weekend. Given the characters from Allison's movie and Robert's comic book, they surely wouldn't be looked at as anything more than your average convention goers… right? "Well," Michelangelo finally spoke up, "I guess it'd be kinda unfair for us to enter the cosplay contest, huh?"

Aggravated, Raphael barked, "Will someone _please_ explain what the heck cosplay is?"

* * *

"Hey." 

Raphael looked up from the bench press to see Leonardo approaching him. "Hey," Raphael returned. "If you're offerin' to spot me, I'm just about wrappin' up here." Leonardo shook his head as Raphael set the weight back on its rest, sitting up.

"Have you called Allison yet?" Raphael looked up at Leonardo guardedly before replying that he hadn't. Sitting besides his brother on the bench, Leonardo seemed to think about this. Finally, he asked, "Raph… is she planning on introducing us to Robert at the convention?"

_He always _was_ the sharp one_, Raphael thought. Stretching his arms, Raphael replied, "Oh sure. We're just walkin', talkin' CG images, and she's gonna take the time to introduce us 'round to her friends. Get real, Leo."

"You're not looking me in the eye," Leonardo observed. Raphael froze before peering at him. "I figured it'd only be a matter of time before she'd want Rob to meet us," Leonardo said, using his exceptional ability to read his brother. "I'm only concerned about what Rob knows about us already… and how much he knows about you and Allison."

"There's nuthin' to know," Raphael quickly cleared up. "I told ya… there's no reason to put labels on the fact that I spend a lot 'a time with her."

Leonardo gazed at him levelly. It hadn't escaped Leonardo's notice that Raphael had never referred to Allison as his "girlfriend," nor did he make use of the word "relationship." Leonardo had attributed it to the fact that he didn't want Michelangelo and Donatello teasing him about it, but it's been almost six months. It was common knowledge that they were more than friends. The only one who still joked about it was Casey, and those jests were light-hearted enough.

"We had this talk, Raph," Leonardo told him. Raphael tried to interject, but Leonardo simply spoke over him. "I don't care how _you_ view your bond with Allison. The point is, it seems to be following the standard model of a monogamous relationship, and I'm pretty sure she's made that much clear to you. If she wants to be with you after everything that's happened and everything she knows, then she's a truly remarkable person. And let me tell you this, Raphael: if you don't realize that, someone else _will_."

Raphael stared after his brother as Leonardo rose to his feet. "What's that supposed to mean, huh?" Raphael asked, suddenly defensive. "You're sayin' I don't treat her right or somethin'? That she deserves better than me, is that it?" Leonardo wondered if Raphael wasn't simply voicing his own fears. He found himself surprised, then, when Raphael stood up and heatedly asked, "You sayin' that _you_ realize it, Leo? That you wanna go and be the prince charmin' that no one thinks I can be?"

"What?" Leonardo took a step back, shocked by the accusation. "Raph, how can you even _think_ that? You're my brother, and she's your… whatever you want to call it. Not to mention, she's my _student_." Realizing even in his anger that his words were uncalled for, Raphael turned away. Leonardo grabbed his arm. "Look, just by that little outburst, I can see that the two of you need to have a serious talk, and _soon_. You know I'm always willing to help you when I can, but this is something you need to decide for yourself. Allison cares about you, and if she wants to lead you into her social life by showing you off to her friends, then that's only natural. But you have to ask yourself, what do _you_ want? If you're not ready to let Robert see who you really are-"

"That's the thing, Leo," Raphael said. "I'm not. And I don't know if I ever will be." Leonardo was about to continue with his lecture, but Raphael steamrollered on. "But she told me that Rob wants to know, Leo. He's tired 'a gettin' excuses about why he can't meet his best friend's 'new boy,' like he calls me. And _she's_ gettin' tired 'a coverin' up. She hasn't said so, but I can see it in her eyes. She's tired 'a the lies and 'a the secrets. And hey, when it comes right down to it, who can blame her? Who am I to tell a girl that, after gettin' used to her own skin, she's gotta hide in it?"

Leonardo listened to all of this intently. He let it sink in before quietly proclaiming, "Raph… this is something you need to talk to her about. If you're getting uncomfortable with how close the relationship's gotten, then you need to tell Allison to tell Robert that you're sick, or that you can't show to the convention, or _some_thing-"

"He gave her an ultimatum, Leo," Raphael told him, rather forlornly. "If there's somethin' about me that she don't want him to know, then maybe there are other things about her that she's hidin' from him. Maybe I don't even exist. Maybe I'm just an excuse for her to keep away from him. Whatever the case, if he don't see me at or before the convention… then their friendship just isn't worth it."

"He… he's making her _choose_?" Leonardo inquired, appalled. "Robert's making Allison decide between their friendship or her relationship? And she's just allowing that to happen? I can't believe that! That's… that's despicable."

"Don't _I_ know it," Raphael stated with a grim smile. "It ain't the way I woulda chose to meet her pals, but Rob's leavin' me no other choice. Because as bad as it is, he made the ultimatum first. If I refuse to meet him, then I'm forcin' Allison to choose between us, too. And that'll make me just as despicable as him."

With a shrug, Raphael walked away as he finished, "And I may be a lotta things, but despicable ain't one 'a them."


	2. Chapter 2

"Mikey, what in the world are you doing?"

Michelangelo was sitting on the floor, staring intently at a bowl of fruit as he scribbled in a notebook. As Leonardo walked over to him, he replied, "I figure that maybe I can show off some of my art at NYCC. That might equal job, which might equal money, which might equal a whole lot of new possibilities for yours truly."

"Possibilities?" Leonardo asked as he crouched behind his brother to look at the picture he was drawing. "I'm assuming that means a bigger DVD collection and stereo system. Sorry to break the news to you, Mikey, but I don't think comic book artists are going to be too impressed with a turtle's sketch of a bowl of fruit."

"Hey," Michelangelo answered, sparing a glance to his brother. "If they knew I was really a turtle, they'd be _really_ impressed." Leonardo smirked, knowing he couldn't argue with that. Returning to his illustration, Michelangelo added, "Besides, those guys are a lot more into fine art than people give them credit for. I mean, they even have Bachelor's degrees in the subject. …they're probably called Bachelor's because you spend so much time trying to earn it, that you never even manage to get a date while in college. The life of a true artist is just chock-full of loneliness, man."

"What's he babblin' about?" Leonardo looked up to see Raphael enter the main room, headed for the television. Leonardo responded that he wouldn't want to know, and got up to join Raphael, who was opening a DVD case. "What the-? Mikey, did you scratch up my _Predator_ DVD?" Michelangelo stopped drawing at Raphael's accusation. "Aw crud, I _knew_ I couldn't leave none 'a my stuff out here!"

"Easy, bro," Michelangelo pleaded, standing up as he saw Raphael angrily make towards him. "It slipped! Not my fault! You can't leave things on top of the TV, you know that!" Backing up against Donatello's worktable, Michelangelo grabbed the first thing he could and held it between himself and Raphael as he closed his eyes. The latter turtle stopped in his tracks.

"It's a trashcan lid," Raphael remarked, confused. "Why do we have a trashcan lid down here?" Michelangelo peered down at the metal object, bewildered as well.

"It's for Casey." Michelangelo and Raphael looked up as Donatello came into the room, having gone to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen. "Since he heard we were going to NYCC, he's determined to indulge the latent comic book geek within. Believe it or not, he wants me to make him a Captain America shield."

"Captain America?" Michelangelo asked. "Casey Jones wants to dress up as the clean-cut and nationalistic_ Captain America_? He's more likely to use this lid to beat someone upside the head, rather than protect somebody." Sneaking a quick glimpse at Raphael, he added, "Like _this_."

Raphael gave Michelangelo a harsh look as his brother raised the trashcan lid over his head. "Do it 'n it'll be the last thing you _ever_ do, peabrain." Thinking better of it, Michelangelo put the lid down. Turning to Donatello, Raphael tossed his DVD over to him. "Here," he said as Donatello caught it. "How about usin' that brain 'a yours to fix that instead 'a makin' toys for that bonehead?"

Walking back to his workstation, Donatello told Michelangelo, "He's not planning on dressing up as him, thankfully. I have to admit, the image of Casey in patriotic spandex is beyond jarring. He seems disappointed that he can't make it to the convention, so he somehow roped me into fashioning a piece of memorabilia for him. I think I might've been sleep-deprived at the time of my agreement."

"Hey," Michelangelo commented after gazing down at the trashcan lid, "don't the turtles in _The Sewer Dwellers_ use this as a weapon in one of the scenes?" Knowing where this was going, Donatello rolled his eyes as he replied in the affirmative. Michelangelo looked back up, possessively holding the lid against himself. "Mine! Totally mine! If my costume's already picked for me, I can at least choose my own props! Heeeyy… maybe I can bring some smoke pellets and-"

"I'm pretty sure the convention officials won't permit actual _smoke pellets_, Mikey," Donatello remarked, prying the garbage cover away from his brother. "That's going just a little _too_ overboard. Remember, for that one weekend, we're just a group of teenagers. _Not_ ninjas."

"Pfft," Michelangelo scoffed as Raphael joined Leonardo in a video game challenge. "We're _always_ ninjas. It's what we do." Donatello caught sight of the bowl of fruit and discarded notebook on the floor and asked about them. "Gonna take my artwork with me," Michelangelo proudly explained as he picked up the notebook and displayed it to Donatello. "Pretty good, huh?"

"Yeah," Donatello answered lightly. "It's awesome. Except… I didn't realize that they printed comics with abstract artwork these days." Michelangelo blinked at him as Donatello added with a smirk, "Great job, Picasso."

Looking to his brothers who were in the middle of a game of _Soul Caliber_, Michelangelo asked, "He's mocking me, ain't he?"

"A-yup," responded Leonardo and Raphael without looking up from their game.

"Okay," Michelangelo muttered, looking back at Donatello. "That's it, smart guy. Maxi and Kilik, round two."

"No way," Raphael answered, still focused on the television screen. "Leo and I just started, and the two 'a you hogged the TV all last week."

"No one's talking TV, Raphy-boy," Michelangelo said, putting the notebook down. "It's _so_ on. C'mon, Techie, let's see what you've got."

"Still sore about yesterday?" Donatello asked gloatingly. Michelangelo fervently replied that there was nothing to be sore _about_; he had beaten Donatello fair and square. Seeing that this had no affect, Michelangelo surprised his brother with a sudden tackle, causing a scuffle on the floor. The pair stopped what they were doing when they heard someone entering the lair.

"Hey guys, what's up?" April inquired.

"Pfft," Michelangelo said again, getting up. "You just saved this bozo's shell, is what." Donatello laughed good-naturedly, earning him a light kick on the leg. Nevertheless, Michelangelo helped his brother to his feet as he asked April, "What's goin' on with you?"

"You'll never guess who came into the store today," she told the four turtles. Of course, this led the four of them to make inane, half-hearted speculations. After Michelangelo went through everyone from Clint Eastwood to Sarah Michelle Gellar without taking a breath, April figured that she should know better than to leave any of her statements so open-ended. "Robert Donnelly, Allison's friend."

Raphael paused the game when Robert's name came up. Turning around to look at April, he exclaimed, "What?! Why'd he go into the shop? He didn't know ya, did he?" April shook her head, telling Raphael to relax. Robert had only met April once, very briefly when they all first met Allison, and had no memory of her. Raphael calmed down considerably.

"He came in to browse around the shop," April told the turtles. "Ended up buying this really beautiful antique cameo pendant as a birthday gift."

Raphael tensed up once again. "Birthday gift? Did he say _whose_ birthday?" April shook her head, and Raphael looked down, apparently worried.

"Uh-oh," Michelangelo noted, pointing at Raphael accusingly. "Looks like _some_body's been a bad boyfriend! Don't tell me Allison's birthday's coming up and you forgot?"

"I didn't forget, motor mouth," Raphael growled angrily. "Her birthday's on Sunday. She'll be turnin' twenty-four while we're still goofin' off at that stupid convention."

"Convention?" April asked. Donatello replied that they were going to NYCC, to which she replied, "Well, that explains why Casey's been pining away at his old Marvel comics and muttering something about the Avengers assembling." With a laugh, she shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest as she added, "I swear, that man's just an overgrown kid."

"And that makes him different from Mikey, how?" Donatello asked.

"Just you wait, Tech-Head," Michelangelo proclaimed, using melodramatic gestures. "I believe in the power of threes, and so the next time we rumble, the Turtle Titan is going to whip your shell, in protection of Maxi's name and reputation. This, I _vow_!" With that, he stormed off into his room, leaving April to gape at Donatello, thoroughly confused.

With a sigh, Donatello murmured, "All this to defend the honor of a fictional nunchuck-wielding pirate. Oy vey."

* * *

"You gotta be kiddin' me!" Raphael cried out. 

"Shh!" Leonardo scolded, holding open the duffel bag he was carrying. "No arguments, Raph. The convention won't allow real weapons inside; you knew that. Just put the sai in the bag, and Donnie will carry them around with him. Try not to act suspicious, okay?"

Grumbling, Raphael gingerly laid his sai inside the bag, besides Leonardo's swords. It was when Donatello offered him the alternative that he took a step back. "Oh no," he complained. "It's bad enough that we gotta trust _you_ to handle all our weapons, but you're gonna give me a pair of plastic sai to carry around? That's ridiculous! And who decided _you_ get to carry all the weapons?"

Donatello sighed and rolled his eyes, his outstretched hand still offering the toy weapons. "We've been through this, Raph. In _The Sewer Dwellers_, the character that's based on me almost always carries his bo and a bag filled with 'techno-junk,' as they called it. This'll make it seem more like a costume. Swords, sai, and nunchucks are considered to be a lot more dangerous than a bo staff, so we need to switch out your weapons for the sake of getting past security. Since no one suspects a giant stick to be used as a weapon, and it's too big to fit in the bag anyway, I'll still wear mine on my back."

"Bro," Michelangelo sarcastically brought up, "great monologue. Though you might wanna work on not making it sound like you've said it a _million_ times."

"I wouldn't mind the indignity," Raphael snarled, snatching the toys out of Donatello's hand, "if only someone will tell me why nunchucks-for-brains here is still walkin' around with that stupid trashcan lid. You ain't gonna tell me April couldn't find no toy nunchucks."

"You're just jealous," Michelangelo commented, sticking his tongue out. Raphael was about to lunge for him, but Leonardo pulled him back. It was just as well, since Michelangelo squealed and held up the lid as the shield it was meant to be.

"I know the concept of teamwork is foreign to you, o brethren of mine," Leonardo mentioned as he let go of Raphael, "but let's be serious about this. Yes, it was great of Allison to invite us out. And yes, we're most likely going to have a shell of a lot of fun. But let's not forget that we can't afford to bring any unwanted attention to ourselves. We're just a group of brothers in really well-executed costumes."

That said, Leonardo motioned for Donatello to close the bag as he opened up the back of the van. Sure enough, there were people dressed in various anime costumes that made them look stranger than half of the things he encountered in the sewer. They'd have no trouble blending in.

The turtles hardly took a few steps towards the convention center when they were stopped by a girl dressed in a bright orange costume of sorts. "Oh my gosh!" She quickly turned to her friend as she grabbed Leonardo's arm, much to his discomfort. "Mel! Look! These guys are dressed up like the Sewer Dwellers! Take a picture!"

As Mel quickly rooted through her bag for her camera, Michelangelo slowly edged up behind Leonardo and asked, "Leo, why is there a female Naruto fangirling over you?" Confused, Leonardo asked what a female Naruto was and why didn't Michelangelo know what to do in this case. "Ain't my problem, bro. _You're_ the one she's got the hots for. Must be the swords. Chicks dig that kinda stuff."

The four of them hardly had the time to offer a weak pose before the flash went off. That done, the girl turned around and marveled over them. "Wow. These costumes are amazing! How long did it take you to finish them?" Leonardo shifted uneasily as she ran her hands along the length of his arm, trying to figure out the mechanics of it.

"Your bo's wrong," Mel stated simply, stepping around to look at Donatello's weapon. Donatello gave her a vaguely bemused look as she went on, "In the movie, it was a black rod with silver designs. This just looks like a giant stick that you wrapped some purple fabric around. And in the movie, his bag was green, not navy blue."

"Ha," Donatello laughed, pulling at Leo to step away. "Yeah, well… we spent so long on our costumes that we didn't even realize that we needed props. It was kind of last-minute. Can't have it all, can you?" The girls agreed and were willing to let them go past. They were once again complimented on their costumes before deciding to make the dash into the convention center.

"Shucks," Michelangelo complained. "How come _I_ don't get any fangirls?" Raphael muttered that it probably had something to do with the fact that he was carrying around a piece of a garbage can. "_You're_ one to talk," Michelangelo shot back. "I don't see you getting any lady fans, either."

Raphael raised an eye ridge at his brother as they continued to walk towards their destination. With a smirk, he asked, "Oh yeah? Which one 'a us is the only one to have had his own personal 'lady fan' for the past six months?"

"That doesn't speak so much for your charisma," Donatello joked, "so much as it does for Allison's poor taste." Leonardo and Michelangelo joined him in laughter even as Raphael shoved him.

"Guys!"

The turtles turned around when they saw Allison coming towards them. "Bud!" Michelangelo cried out, running towards her and picking her up. Stunned, Allison could do little else but grip onto his shell as he swung her around. "How's your sinus infection? Did Raph's soup give you food poisoning? He said it didn't, but I don't believe him. And do something about his attitude; he's been grumpy lately. And hey, question: will you be my fangirl? I really want one."

Allison couldn't keep back a laugh as she was released. Counting down the answers on her fingers, she replied, "I'm feeling better, no, you never believe him, he's _always_ grumpy, and I'm _always_ your fangirl." Michelangelo blushed and continued to hug her, much to Raphael's chagrin.

They were surprised to hear a voice speaking to them. "So, _this_ is the guy who's been stealing Allison away from me on Saturday nights." The turtles turned, suddenly stiffening when they recognized the man in the khakis and black t-shirt as Robert. He was eyeing Michelangelo curiously. "I was beginning to doubt you even existed."

"Huh?" Michelangelo asked. Realizing what he was saying, he corrected, "Oh, no, you got the wrong guy. I'm Mikey, the adorable, light-hearted brother. Raphael's the guy in the red. _He's _the home wrecker." Michelangelo uttered an "ow" in response to the backhanded slap Allison administered against his shoulder.

"Oh," Robert said, looking to Raphael. With a small smile, he explained, "Sorry. You have to admit, that's one heck of a family resemblance." Trying to bite back an insult, Raphael offered a smile that looked more like a grimace. Robert then held his hand out to him. "Nice to meet you, Raphael. I'm Robert Donnelly. Ally won't quit talking about you. Believe me, I tried to get her to stop."

"Dirty liar," Allison commented, holding her breath at the initial interaction.

"Right Rob," Raphael replied. "She's told me a lot about you, too." He thought about ignoring Robert's hand, but remembered that the girl who touched Leonardo didn't make any acknowledgment about him feeling weird. Still, that was a young girl, and this was a thirty-one year old man. Not wanting to be rude so early on in the game, he reached out for Robert's hand, completing the greeting. "It's good to meet ya, too."

"So, Raphael," Robert said, apparently trying to get names straight as he looked to Michelangelo, "and you're Mike." Turning to Leonardo and Donatello, he asked, "Let me guess, you're brothers, too. Or at least distant cousins."

"We're brothers, all right," Donatello answered with a smile. "For better or worse. I'm Donnie. This is Leo." Robert took turns shaking all of their hands, though it didn't escape anyone's notice that he was focused primarily on Raphael. This made the turtle shift uncomfortably as he wished Allison would do something about this sticky situation.

"Cute," Robert commented, looking at their "costumes." He laughed good-naturedly as he amended with, "Awesome, I mean. I know how some guys get about having their costumes called 'cute.' But it's a nice homage to the movie. I'm really impressed." He paused for a moment before awkwardly bringing up, "So, uh… are those animatronics masks, or do you know a killer make-up artist?"

"Rob!" Allison broke in, not wanting the boys to have to answer more difficult questions than they had to. "What are you doing here, anyway? I went on a quick bathroom break; who's manning the table?"

"Ha," Robert laughed dryly. "No one's coming there to see _me_. I'm just the guy who draws a couple of independent comics. It's you and your movie that the fans care about. Either way, we should both get back there before one of the NYCC officers yell at us or something."

Allison nodded in agreement, then looked to the turtles. She had wanted to have at least a few minutes alone with them to show them around, but they managed to arrive right at the end of her five-minute break. She wasn't due for another one in another couple of hours. "Right," she finally said. "If you guys need me, just go into the dealer's room and turn left. Rob and I are in the second aisle down, next to the giant inflatable tennis ball with eyes." When the brothers looked at her blankly, she shook her head. "Don't ask. Trust me, you're better off not knowing."

She was about to go off with Robert, when Raphael called to her. "Hey." Stopping, Allison turned to look at him. Seeming a little uncomfortable about the whole thing, he shrugged and held his arms out. "You just gonna let me out into the world without so much as a hug or nuthin'?"

Allison gaped at him, shocked that he would make such a request in front of his brothers. Not wanting Robert to later ask any questions about Raphael's views towards public displays of affection, she quietly walked over to him and embraced him. He held her firmly, but rubbed her back gently. Blocked from Robert's view, Raphael thinly muttered, "If he says I look like an animatronics one more time…."

The brothers snickered as Allison pushed Raphael away. She could tell that he was kidding by the smirk on his face, but that didn't stop her from whispering, "Behave." He gave her an innocent wave as she walked away and turned her back on him, following a confused Robert back to their table.

"For some reason," he told her after they were out of earshot, "I expected him to be a lot taller."


	3. Chapter 3

Seeing that they appeared to be catching a break from the fans for a minute, Robert gave Allison a sideways glance and asked, "Is he good for you?"

Having lost sight of the boys, Allison turned to look at Robert. She raised an eyebrow, stating, "Rob, you've been asking me that ever since I first told you about him. Yes. He's good for me. He's one of the few things I enjoy that actually _is_ good for me."

Robert seemed to consider this before saying, "Well, I guess that's what matters, right? So long as he's good for you. Because I'm telling you, Ally, he's not really doing much for your job-"

"Robert!"

"It's the truth!" Knowing that Allison wouldn't blow up at him or walk away from him while they were in a public place, Robert pressed on. "You could have done real well in LA. You've got talent, ambition… but you came back here because one of the fight choreographers you met on the set had to move back to New York? It doesn't add up, Allison. It just doesn't."

Allison regarded him anxiously, asking him what he meant. "You didn't meet Raphael on set, did you?" Allison's breath caught in her throat. Robert took this as a sign that he was correct. "You met him before you even wrote _Sewer Dwellers_, didn't you? Do you think I'm stupid or something, Allison? The turtles in _Dwellers_ have similar names and mannerisms as Raphael and his brothers. All it took was a couple of hours of casual observation to see that these guys _aren't_ cosplaying."

She suddenly felt feverish. Saying nothing, she grabbed for her water bottle and took a quick swig. Was it so obvious that the boys weren't in costume? Did she just blow their cover? Were there undercover government spies at the convention, waiting to see if something like this would ever happen? Her paranoia was quickly mounting even as Robert finished, "They're not pretending to be the Dwellers. They _are_ the Dwellers. You knew them before you started writing that movie… and you neglected to tell me about them."

"Rob," Allison choked out. It was a miracle that she was able to find her voice. "Rob, I… yeah. Yeah, I met them just before I started writing the movie. But… Rob, I… I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd find out-"

"Look," Robert interrupted, "it's not my business. Writers use their personal friends in their stories all the time. I'm just wondering how Raphael managed to make such an impression on you that you'd put him in a screenplay… and yet you couldn't bring yourself to tell me about the guy."

Allison gaped at him, not sure what he meant. Seeing her expression, he shrugged and let out an awkward grin. "I know I sound jealous. But I'm not. Really. I just thought we were really close, Ally. I mean, my daughter looks at you like you're her mother. And yet, here you are: you met a guy that you seem to have really fallen for and feel as though you have to lie to me about how the two of you met. Sometimes I don't even think you tell me half the things a best friend should really know. Makes a guy feel a little… I don't know… obsolete, I guess."

Her expression gradually changed as she came to realize what he meant. He _didn't_ know the truth about the turtles. He just assumed that she had written their personalities into her film, and was disappointed that she seemed to have known them longer than she let on. With a laugh, she leaned over towards him and kissed him on the cheek. "Robert, I love you."

As Allison leaned her head against his shoulder, she couldn't see his small blush. "Shucks," he responded as he put an arm around her shoulders, "I'm kinda fond of you too, Grayson."

Neither of them saw Raphael's hostile glare as he caught sight of them from across the room.

Somewhere behind Raphael, Leonardo was having a heated argument with the weapons dealer. "Are you even aware of the difference between a katana and a ninjatō? I mean, I understand that the character in the film kept referring to them as katana, but I'm telling you, they're actually a pair of straight ninjatō. They can also be called ninjaken or _shinobigatana_."

"See," the man replied after looking at him blankly for a moment, "shin-katana."

Leonardo covered his face with his hands. "_Shinobigatana_. As in, ninja sword. And yes, sometimes an individual may choose to refer to his swords as katana; I know _I_ have on several accounts. But in terms of what the weapon is technically _called_, it's ninjatō or ninjaken. Don't you have to know this before you're allowed to sell these things in the first place?"

With an aggravated sigh, he turned to look at his brother. "Honestly, this could have been avoided if only Allison thought to consult me while writing the film. Remind me to chastise her next-" He stopped when he saw Raphael angrily staring off in the opposite direction. "Hey… something wrong?" He realized that Raphael was looking off towards Allison and Robert's table, and followed his gaze. "Raphael," he told him sternly after catching sight of the pair. "They're best friends. They've known each other a long time. She's practically the mother of his child."

"Do me a favor," Raphael said with disgust, "don't ever say that last sentence again. _Ever_. It makes me feel all… ugh." Leonardo was about to comment on how cute Raphael's jealousy seemed when he realized that this was seriously bothering him. He put a hand on Raphael's shoulder, restating that they were just friends.

"Yeah," Raphael murmured, "friends. Real _cozy_ friends." Annoyed by the tone of his own voice, Raphael looked away. "C'mon," he said, walking to the next aisle. "Let's see what's goin' on down here."

It didn't take them too long to encounter Donatello. To their surprise, there appeared to be a table filled with the very "techno-junk" that their brother held so dear. As Donatello turned his wide eyes towards them, Leonardo and Raphael looked at each other, knowing what was coming next.

"Guys, you'll never believe this," Donatello exclaimed, holding up what looked like nothing more than an old, battered radio. "It's a genuine 1954 Regency TR-1 transistor radio!" When he received no response, some of the fire went out of his eyes as he clarified, "It's basically the ancestor of, say, the iPod."

He looked back down at the antique. The elderly woman sitting at the table had a myriad of other things she was selling, from old comic books to dirty stuffed animals, but Donatello had never imagined that he'd find a genuine antique radio at a _comic convention_. Knowing that the gadget sold on eBay for well over $200, he asked, "How much?" When the woman replied that it was fifty dollars, it took all of Donatello's willpower to not have a heart attack on the spot. "Leo," he said, sticking his hand out towards his brother. "Give me fifteen dollars."

Leonardo took a step backwards in surprise. Donatello was usually among the economically responsible of the brothers, and so Leonardo didn't know why he'd spend so much money on what looked like nothing more than a hunk of junk. "Donnie-"

"Leo, I've got thirty-five bucks on me, and I know you're not planning on buying anything that will make too much of a difference if you're fifteen dollars poorer." Leonardo was about to make an argument, but Donatello turned sharply towards him, narrowing his eyes. "Leo, give me the fifteen dollars and I'll love and respect you like a dear older brother. _Don't_ give it to me… and this might just get violent."

"Hoo boy," Raphael breathed, grinning despite himself. "I'd pay fifteen bucks just to _see_ this get violent." Not wanting to cause a scene, Leonardo turned up the cash and gave it to his brother. Donatello professed that it was just a loan and hurriedly made the purchase.

"There must be something in the air," Leonardo murmured as Donatello turned back to them, carefully putting his new radio in his bag. "Everyone I've met has been acting crazy. I can only wonder what Mikey's up to."

"I think he said something about scoping out the Silver Age comics table," Donatello offered. "Something about them having a sale." Leonardo stopped in his tracks. If Donatello had been so insistent for extra money, he could only imagine what Michelangelo would be like. Leaving Donatello and Raphael alone, Leonardo said he was going to make sure that Michelangelo didn't do anything foolish.

"Heh," Raphael muttered absently, his gaze returning to Allison and Robert. "If he didn't want Mikey to do nuthin' foolish, he should have left him home." Donatello laughed, but slowly quieted down when he saw what caught Raphael's attention. Though Allison and Robert were talking to more convention guests, it was apparent that Robert was sitting far closer to Allison than was necessary.

"Oh," Donatello said quietly, not needing Raphael to say anything. "Wow. You'd think a guy his age would have a little more tact." Raphael gave Donatello a look and asked if he thought he was overreacting. Donatello shook his head. "I wouldn't think so. I mean… yeah, I've never been in a relationship before or anything, but judging by Robert's body language, I can understand it if you're upset." With a reassuring smile, he added, "On Allison's part, though, you've got nothing to worry about. She cares about you. I mean, if you've been together this long and she hasn't tried to throw you off a building yet, then I think she's looking to be in this for a long time."

Raphael stared at his brother steadily for a moment. He and Donatello had never been exceedingly close, but he remembered that it _was_ Donatello who first knew about his feelings for Allison. Despite the initial misgivings from Leonardo, Donatello seemed supportive enough. At this point, that meant a lot to Raphael. "Thanks Donnie," he finally replied. "You're a good kid."

"Strange of you to call me kid, since I'm older," Donatello laughed. Raphael was about to start the familiar argument about who actually _was_ older, but Donatello stopped him. "Save your anger, Casanova. I saw something a while ago that should help you blow off some steam. A combat ring. Foam weapons, so you couldn't hurt someone unless you purposely aimed at super-sensitive areas. You game?"

"Combat ring, huh?" Raphael asked, raising an eye ridge. Putting an arm around Donatello's shoulders as they began to walk, he said, "Donnie, you sure know how to show a ninja a good time."

Allison looked up from signing an autograph just in time to see Raphael and Donatello sign up for a combat session. "Oh brother," she murmured under her breath. Robert followed her gaze and asked if Donatello was also a fight choreographer. "No," she said, trying not to stutter. "Don's more of a science kind of guy. But he's been training as long as Raphael has. They're pretty much equals."

"Allison!" Allison spun around at the sound of her name. Michelangelo ran towards her, almost throwing himself against her from over the table. Leonardo was trying to pull his arm back but only succeeded in being dragged along. "Allison, please!" Michelangelo pleaded, his hands on her shoulders. "_Please_ tell me you have twenty dollars! Please, please, please, please, please! The Silver Age table has a section of fifty-cent comics, and they have _all_ thirty-nine issues of the discontinued _Tales of the Justice Force_ missing from my collection! I already blew all my cash and the other dealer won't do refunds! Please, please, please, please-"

"Easy, Mike," Robert said with a laugh. He stood up and Michelangelo backed away, wondering what he was going to do. As he reached into his back pocket, Robert chuckled, "A Justice Force fan, huh? Man, I used to love them when I was a kid. I'm not so big on the newer issues, but that's only because you can't beat the classics." Leonardo and Michelangelo gaped at him as he removed a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and offered it to Michelangelo. "Always willing to help out someone who knows his comics."

Even as Michelangelo reached out for the money, Leonardo replied, "No. Thank you Robert, but that's wholly unnecessary. Mikey's got enough comic books at home; adding over three dozen to his collection would-"

"Would be a pleasure," Robert finished with a grin. "Really. Look at it as a gift or as a loan. Either way's good. Come on… when else is he going to get almost forty vintage comics for under twenty bucks?" Leaning in towards Michelangelo, he joked, "Sheesh, the guy reminds me of my older brother. Are you the youngest? Because in that case, I'd know exactly what you're going through."

Michelangelo didn't get to answer, since a loud voice called behind them, "See! See! I told you they have a Michelangelo in their group! He's even got the garbage can lid!" The group turned their attentions to a gathering of five girls that were making their way towards them. Leonardo took an uncomfortable step back when he recognized the one that spoke was the "female Naruto" that he took a picture with earlier. The girl known as Mel had her camera at the ready, and they were joined by three friends who were also in costume.

"Zoinks!" Michelangelo cried out, cringing behind Leonardo. "The fangirls are back! No one told me that they multiplied so quickly! Where'd they find Daphne, Velma, and a female Shaggy?" He blinked, confused. "Female Shaggy? Why is there a female Shaggy? Gender bending must be all the rage this year."

"My boyfriend thinks cosplaying is stupid," explained Shaggy. "Shows how much _he_ knows. But hey, can we get your picture? You're right by the _Sewer Dwellers_' table, and you were my favorite turtle."

"Me?" Michelangelo asked. "Really?" Hitting Leo's arm, he laughed, "Nya-ha, I _do_ have fangirls! This is awesome! Hope that camera's got fresh batteries! C'mere, girls, and show Mikey some love!"

Leonardo rolled his eyes, turning back to the table as the girls gathered around Michelangelo. "I think I'm going to be ill-" His eyes bulged out as the female Naruto pulled his arm, forcing him to embrace her for the picture.

Allison put a hand to her lips, stifling a snicker. Though she felt sorry for Leonardo, she couldn't deny that it was the funniest thing she'd seen in a while. If only she could signal to Raphael and Donatello and get them over here. It'd be interesting to see Raphael's reaction to fangirls.

"Miss Grayson?" Allison put her hand down as she heard a man's voice through the small crowd that gathered in front of the table. She tried to peer through, and the girls stepped away as a tall older gentleman in blue jeans and a black wool pea coat walked towards Allison.

With a smile, Allison got a pen ready in case he should ask for an autograph. "Yes sir," she responded, giving him a salute. "You can call me Allison, though. This is Robert Donnelly, the artist behind-"

"Allison." Allison shut her mouth as she was interrupted. It didn't seem like a hostile sort of interruption so much as it seemed a little impatient. As though time were important. "You don't remember me, do you?"

She gave him a long, hard look. She couldn't deny that there was something about his face that she found vaguely familiar, but no particular memories were springing forth. She noticed that his cologne even seemed to ring a very distant bell. "Sorry," she squeaked. "My memory has a tendency to get a little wonky. Maybe a name will help?"

He looked down at her steadily. Through his short grey beard, Allison could see the ghost of a smile. An old teacher, maybe? A former neighbor? She couldn't quite pinpoint it, but she knew she was going to feel ridiculous when she realized who he was. "I think a name might help a lot," he told her softly. "I'm Vincent Grayson."

Leonardo and Michelangelo turned their heads at this. Allison rarely talked about her family, but they knew that she wasn't on good terms with most of them, hence why she grew up as a loner. Outside of Robert and the turtles, Allison's contacts were few and far between.

"D… Daddy?"

At the word, Leonardo finally dropped his arms from around the girl who was determined to pose him for an indeterminate amount of pictures. _Daddy?_ Only he and Raphael knew details about her family history, and it was to his understanding that Allison's father had abandoned her when she was still a toddler.

Standing up, Allison gaped at the man who was smiling in front of her. "She at least made sure you knew my name!" Vincent laughed. "She's not as heartless as I remember."

"Mr. Grayson," Robert exclaimed, rising and crossing around the table to get closer to him. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Robert Donnelly. Allison's been my best friend for years." The two men shook hands with one another, but Allison found that she couldn't move.

Tilting his head to look at his daughter, Vincent asked, "I know it's a bit of a shock, sweetheart, but can we talk? Do you have a minute?" Robert told Allison to go ahead and take her break a little early. Not knowing what else to do, Allison grabbed her jacket that she had draped across the back of her chair and reached for her bag, never taking her eyes off of the surprise visitor. Once she was ready to go, Vincent held his arms out to her. "My beautiful angel. I can't believe how long it's been." Though still in shock, Allison allowed herself to be held by this stranger who was the closest blood relative she had.

Just as he selected his foam weapon, Donatello felt a sudden odd chill. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to release the tension. "Hey, you gonna fight, or you just gonna stand there?" Raphael's words didn't seem to sink in. Perplexed, Donatello quickly scanned the convention hall. He quickly caught sight of Allison being embraced by an unfamiliar man. He almost dropped his toy sword when he thought he saw something odd. Was it a trick of the light… or did that man's eyes just flash a bright green? "Donnie, what's up? Somethin' wrong?"

With a gulp as he watched Allison leave with the newcomer, Donatello replied, "Call me crazy, but I think my turtle senses are tingling."


	4. Chapter 4

"So, uh… how's life?"

Allison cringed at her own weak attempt to start a conversation with her long lost father. They were going down the escalator, heading for the outside world. Both seemed to share the silent sentiment that a crowded convention hall was no place for a proper reunion.

"It's been interesting," Vincent replied, his green eyes focused on her. "Very interesting. I hope you can say the same." Allison laughed uneasily, replying that that was _one_ way of describing it. "I figured as much, given your occupation. From the screenwriter of last summer's biggest blockbuster to an independent comic book writer. Wherever you get your ideas, I don't doubt that it's been quite a ride."

They were silent for a moment more, and Allison briefly wondered if this was simply the way family members had conversations. She wouldn't know, as it had been a long time since she considered anyone "family," outside of Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Donatello. "How's your mother?" Vincent asked as they stepped off the escalator.

Allison stopped and gaped up at him. "You mean… no one's told you?" He looked down at her carefully, telling her that he hoped she wasn't ill. Allison swallowed with difficulty. The last time she talked about her mother was with Raphael over a year ago (with Leonardo overhearing), and that had ended with more emotion than she cared to display in public. "Daddy… Mom had cancer." She watched as Vincent closed his eyes. Her voice caught in her throat as she added, "She's been dead for about five years."

Vincent opened his eyes again, and Allison saw that they were wavering with tears. "Dead?" Vincent choked out. "Maggie's gone? For five years? W… who's been looking after you?"

"I… no one," Allison admitted, finding this topic more and more difficult to talk about. "I was in college when it happened and I… I decided to move out on my own. I was nineteen. Didn't really need anyone to take care of me."

She found that she had to keep back a sob as he reached out and tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear, saying, "You're my little girl. You'll _always_ need someone to take care of you." Allison's lower lip trembled, but she kept herself in check when she saw two familiar people heading down the escalator.

"I _have_ someone to take care of me," she told him with a small smile. Walking towards the escalator, she held out her hand for Raphael, who was being followed by Donatello. "Raphael, I want you to meet my dad. Daddy, this is Raphael. We've been dating for about six months."

"Five months, twenty-nine days," Raphael replied, staring at Vincent as he protectively put an arm around Allison. "Don't seem like a big chunk 'a time compared to how long _you've_ been outta the picture."

"Raph!"

"It's all right, angel," Vincent said, gently holding a hand out to silence her. "I deserve it. And besides," he added, giving Raphael a rather stern and yet amused look, "just by that short discourse, I can see how much he cares for you." He offered Raphael his hand, telling him, "Pleasure, Raphael. You can call me Vincent."

"Raphael isn't the only one who cares about Allison," Donatello proclaimed as he stepped in front of his brother, waving away Vincent's hand. "You'd be surprised how many people are a bit overprotective of your daughter." He paused briefly before stating the word "daughter," not wanting to blatantly accuse a man who hasn't done anything wrong yet. As Vincent smiled at the turtle quizzically, Allison introduced him as Donnie.

"Well," Vincent mused, taking a step back and looking them over. "Those are rather charming costumes, boys. It would be nice to see you without them at some point… say, over dinner tonight?"

"Oh, they're not wea-" Allison started, but was interrupted by Raphael.

"We ain't exactly social," he muttered with a stern look at Allison. She looked down, surprised that she almost confessed so candidly that they weren't wearing costumes. "It takes us a long time to trust people, and the ten seconds we talked don't qualify as a 'long time.'"

"Raph! Donnie!" The quartet on the ground floor looked up to see Leonardo and Michelangelo heading down the escalator. Leonardo seemed to have a disappointed look on his face, obviously overhearing Raphael's words. "What's the matter with you?"

"Guys," Michelangelo called, jumping off the escalator and trying to pull Raphael and Donatello away. Grabbing their arms, he murmured warningly, "Ix-nay on the aggression-ay."

Allison sighed and sunk her head in her hand. This was getting just a little too complicated. All she needed now was for Robert to come down the escalator and- "Hey guys! Leo! Mike! Why'd you run off?" She almost laughed to herself as Robert sped down the escalator, joining up with them.

"We're sorry about this, Allison," Leonardo told her. "Please accept our apologies, Mr. Grayson. Raphael has a history of being a bit hot-tempered. _Donnie_, though, has no excuse." With that, he shot Donatello a reproachful look for the fiercely defensive stance he had been in. Donatello looked away, but it didn't change his suspicions at all.

"Quite all right," Vincent said, letting out a small laugh. "It's nice to see Allison with so many friends, especially those as concerned as Raphael and Donatello. And you may call me Vincent, Leonardo." He added the last bit as he held out a hand to Leonardo, who shook it gratefully, thankful that Raphael and Donatello hadn't done anything too rash.

"How'd you know Leo's name?" Raphael inquired as Vincent shook Michelangelo's hand. "We never told ya his name. How'd ya-" He was cut off by Allison, who crossly reminded him that Robert had said it just a few seconds ago.

"Guys, I appreciate the concern," she told the five males who followed her, "but can a girl get a little privacy? It's been over twenty years, you know, and-"

"Say no more, bud," Michelangelo told her, pulling Raphael and Donatello towards the escalator going back up. "We're gone." As he and Leonardo shoved their errant brothers onto the escalator, Michelangelo asked, "Okay, someone wanna explain to me what that was all about? Because call me crazy, but I always thought it was a _good_ thing when family got together. Unless it was on like, the Jerry Springer Show or something."

"There's somethin' off about that guy," Raphael protested, noting that Robert had chosen to stay behind with Allison and Vincent. "Somethin' ain't right about 'im. Ask Donnie. He's the one that saw it first."

Leonardo turned to Donatello, asking if that was true. "It is," Donatello stated, still looking at the group of humans they left behind. "I might be just overly apprehensive, but there's some kind of strange vibe coming off of him. Can't anyone else feel it?"

"_I_ can," Raphael affirmed. "I can almost _smell _it."

"Well I _can't_," Leonardo contradicted.

"The only thing I smell coming off of him is some seriously outdated cologne," Michelangelo professed. "He should consider switching to Old Spice or something. But other than that, I don't get what the big deal is. I mean, if you look close enough, he and Allison even look a little alike, and she hasn't given off any clue that the situation's weird. So my question for you two is, can you say 'paranoia?'"

Donatello was about to disagree, but Leonardo broke in. "Mikey's right, guys. I can expect Raph to err a bit on the hotheaded side, but you, Donnie? You're the logical one. Allison's got some family affairs to straighten out for herself. She never got in our way when we needed to set things straight with Sensei or with one another, so why should we get in hers?"

"Because this is _different_!" Raphael insisted as they got off the escalator. "I don't know who that guy is or what he told you, but something's tellin' me that he ain't Allison's father! Maybe she wants to believe he is, and she's blinded to the truth. And just because you see her happy, you guys wanna be blind too, without even investigatin'?"

"That's the point, bro," Michelangelo interrupted. "She's _happy_. She's got somebody to call family. A _real_ family, not just us. For the first time in months, Allison has something to be happy about."

"And what do ya call _me_?" Raphael almost screamed.

Donatello stepped in between the two of them, pulling them apart. Instead of acting as the peacemaker, however, he looked at Leonardo quizzically. "What exactly is that supposed to mean, Leo? 'You're the logical one?' You can expect Raph to behave a certain way, but not me? Are you under the impression that you've got us figured out, right down to be able to calculate our next move?"

"Of course he does," Raphael sneered. "He's the fearless leader. What kinda leader he gonna be if he can't read the minds 'a his troops?"

"Whoa, wait, time out," Leonardo said, noticing that they were drawing attention to themselves. "I think I'm getting lost between all of the screaming and accusations. This isn't about me. This is about you two being completely rude to our friend's father-"

"Leo," Raphael remarked, "can it."

Leonardo took a step towards Raphael—to do what, he wasn't sure—but stopped when Donatello once again stepped in front of Raphael. "He's right, Leo. Pigs must be flying, because I'm actually siding with Raphael for a change. You can call us paranoid, suspicious, delusional, and whatever other terms come to mind. That doesn't change the fact that I feel that there's something off about this Vincent guy, and it doesn't change the fact that Raphael agrees with me. Sorry if that doesn't fit into your ideas of how the 'logical one' should behave."

"Donatello," Leo spoke after a moment, "you can behave however you want, so long as you keep in mind that any outlandish conduct might just blow our cover. We can't risk that. Not for our sake, and not for Allison's sake. So if you choose to be angry at me for some unknown reason, fine. But if you're claiming to be at all concerned for Allison, I suggest you think very carefully before you do anything that might hurt her." He raised his eyes to Raphael. "The same goes for you, Raphael. Is that understood?"

The two of them said nothing. Robert had just gotten off the escalator and was joining them. Coming up behind Leonardo and Michelangelo, he put an arm around each of their shoulders and asked, "How about it, guys? Want to hang with me at the _Dwellers_' table? Looks like Allison's going to be having a long talk with her dad."

Donatello could hear Raphael growl deep within his throat, and quickly told Robert, "Actually, Raph and I still have that combat session reserved for us. We'll catch up with you later." With that, he quickly nudged Raphael away from them, noticing the distrustful look from Leonardo. Though the glance hurt him more than he let on, Donatello walked side-by-side with Raphael in silence until they were deep enough within the crowded convention to not be overheard.

"We ain't really gonna go back to the combat ring, are we?" Raphael asked.

"Nope," came the reply.

"Good. Tell me what's on that big brain of yours."

"Nothing so far," Donatello replied. "At least, nothing in regards to this." He paused for a moment before adding, "I think you hit something when you mentioned that Vincent knew Leonardo's name, though." Raphael shook his head, reminding him that Robert had indeed said it just before Vincent did.

"No," Donatello went on. "Rob called him 'Leo.' Not Leonardo. Typically, when you meet someone, you tend to call them by the name you've heard other people referring to them by. I mean, how could Vincent have known that 'Leo' wasn't short for Leon or Leonard, or even just a nickname for something else entirely? More importantly, how could he have known that he was speaking to Leo and not Mikey? Rob never made the distinction.

"And come to think of it," he continued as he realized something else, "Allison herself called me 'Donnie.' There are two things wrong with that. One, Vincent still somehow guessed what my full name is, even though Donatello's a fairly uncommon name. And two… Allison _never_ calls me Donnie. The only one she ever calls by a nickname is Mike." Looking at his brother, he asked, "She called you 'Raph' too, didn't she?"

"Yeah," Raphael replied. "But in her defense, she sometimes calls me that when she's mad at me. Funny though… I would have thought that all of this was just a sign that you've been watchin' too many mystery movies. The only problem is, I noticed it too. I can't remember her _ever_ callin' ya Donnie, and I don't know how he coulda gotten 'Donatello' outta that."

The brothers were silent for a moment as they thought over their options. Finally, with a defeated sigh, Raphael murmured, "I just _know_ this is gonna put me in the 'stupid jealous boyfriend' category. Those guys _never _get a happy ending."

With a smirk as he led them to a detour around the dealers' room, Donatello asked, "Since when did you ever care about happy endings? Just make sure that the rest of the story is worth telling." Raphael tried not to think about the fact that these words sounded remarkably similar to the ones Allison had said to him regarding the reason they shouldn't ignore their feelings for one another.

"I saw a wireless hotspot with some public computers over down this corridor," Donatello told him. "I'm going to try and find out everything I can about Vincent Grayson. It'll be a little hard since all I have is a name, but it's worth a shot. I'm guessing that Leo doesn't trust the two of us together now, so we'll have to split up. Poke around in the dealers' room for a while; make sure that you stay within sight of the table, so Leo doesn't get suspicious." Raphael nodded and left his brother behind. Both of them knew where Raphael was _really_ going.

Making sure that Leonardo and Michelangelo were with Robert, Raphael lost himself in the crowd and headed back for the escalators. Hunching his head between his shoulders, he hoped that he wouldn't stumble across any fangirls who insisted that he take a picture with them. _That's all I need_, he thought to himself. _Hearing some high-pitched voice screaming-_

"Dude, it's a Sewer Dweller!" Raphael almost stopped at the sound of the voice, but thought better of it. It didn't do him any good, since someone put a hand on his arm and asked, "Hey, mind if I get a picture of you, buddy?" Raphael was about to turn and snap, but stopped when he saw who it was.

"What the shell are _you_ doing here, Casey Jones?"

Casey laughed as he removed his hockey mask. "Gotcha there, didn't I? I figured you'd probably gotten that all day." Raphael repeated his question, and Casey grinned. "April's the best, ya know that? She knew how much I wanted to come by and check out this joint, and she actually shelled out the money for a weekend pass for the two of us. She's downstairs talking to Allison and some old guy right now."

Seeing the look on Raphael's face, Casey asked what was wrong. Looking down, Raphael gave him the abridged version of what was going on. "Some guy came up to Allison and said he was her dad, but Donnie and I are gettin' a bad vibe off 'a him. Donnie said he thought he saw his eyes glowin', which we all know from experience is _never_ good, but we didn't even get to mention that before Leo and Mike teamed up and ripped us a new one for bein' rude."

"Whoa," Casey remarked. "You and Donnie against Leo and Mikey? That's _one_ tag team that'll go down in the record books." Raphael grumbled something before asking if Vincent had seemed at all suspicious to Casey. The man shook his head. "Didn't really pay attention to him. I was all set on comin' up here 'n seein' if I can score me some fifty-cent comics before Mikey got 'em all."

"Right," Raphael muttered, "go get your stupid comics. I'm gonna go 'n keep an eye on Allison until Donnie can get this whole thing figured out." Casey asked if he needed some help, but Raphael pretended not to hear as he went on his way.

Getting to the escalator, Raphael saw April just stepping off. "Raphael!" She smiled at him as she went to greet him, but the smile disappeared when Raphael took her arm and pulled her off to the side.

"I heard you were talkin' to Allison and her dad," he told her. When she affirmed that she had been, Raphael asked, "What'd you think of 'im? There's something off about 'im, but no one except Donnie seems to believe me, so I'm wonderin' if the two of us are just crazy or if it's the rest 'a the world that's gotta get their eyes checked."

April furrowed her brow, trying to think back on her brief encounter with the Graysons. "'Off?' How do you mean? He seemed nice enough to me. Really sweet and charismatic."

"Just like a politician just before election day," Raphael remarked.

After a moment, April added, "The only thing about him that stood out was his cologne… and that's only because my dad used to wear it." She paused briefly before bringing up, "I guess you can call _that_ weird. He was wearing _Black Candle_ cologne even though it's been discontinued since the mid-eighties. My dad used to joke that he must've been the only man who actually used it, so the company went out of business."

"_Black Candle_, huh?" Raphael asked. April nodded. Cracking his knuckles, Raphael said, "Okay, I'm gonna need ya to do me a favor. Donnie's over in a wireless hotspot down this hall. Just pop in and tell him to do a search on this _Black Candle_ cologne and see if it helps him any. And I'll really appreciate it if you don't tell Leo or Mikey about this."

As he walked past her to head downstairs, April turned around to look at him, confused. "Is something wrong? Why can't Leo or Mikey know?" Getting to the escalator, Raphael asked her to trust him. He kept looking at her until she set off in the direction he had pointed out to her.

On the ground level now, Raphael tried to slow his thoughts enough to concentrate. If April had just left the pair, then they couldn't be too far away. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. Thinking he might have picked up on Vincent's cologne, he went off to his left. It was the only time he ever wished Allison used perfume instead of just a light body spray.

The gathering of people began to thin out as Raphael got further and further away from the convention hall. There will still people in costume, but judging by the strange looks he was getting, Raphael could assume that many of these people were ordinary civilians who simply had business at the Jacob Javits Center.

He stopped when he came across a wide open area with numerous chairs and tables. Looking around, he realized he was in the nearly-deserted food court. There was a pillar nearby, so he quickly took cover there. Sure enough, he spotted Allison and Vincent sitting at a table in the center of the room. Somehow, he couldn't shake the idea that Vincent planned it that way to make it impossible for anyone to eavesdrop unnoticed.

_Drat,_ he thought as he pressed against the column. _There's no way I'm gonna get close enough to hear them._ Wishing he was as good at deciphering body language as Donatello was, he observed them closely.

Allison and Vincent seemed to be having a very serious discussion. She was sitting opposite him and was leaning in towards him, looking at him intently and sympathetically as he spoke. He was sitting up straight, his right hand on the table making the occasional gesticulation. Raphael noticed that Vincent's eyes were downcast. _Crud, what does that mean? Does it mean he's lying, disappointed, angry… what? _

With a frustrated sigh, he lightly banged his head against the column. _It probably means that I'm readin' too much into this. She's catchin' up with her old man. And until Donnie tells me otherwise, there's no other way for me to look at this. _

Peering out at them once more, he added, _Still, that don't mean I ain't gonna look out for what's mine_.

* * *

In the Wi-Fi room, Donatello was having no luck with his search. 

He tried every search engine he could think of, using all possible variations on the names "Vincent" and "Grayson." Because he had to deal with the restricted access of public computers, he could come up with no more information other than the fact that several men by the name of Vincent Grayson existed. He attempted an image search, but still had no luck.

"Donnie!" Donatello looked up to see April approaching him. Surprised, he asked her what she was doing here. "Decided to cut Case a break," she responded. "Besides, I wanted to see what got him and Mikey so hyped up about this place. Are the others all in one place, or is everyone scattered?"

"They should be by the _Sewer Dwellers_' table," he replied. "When you leave here, turn right, go down half a dozen aisles or so, and it's the one next to the giant inflatable tennis ball with eyes." When she gave him a perplexed look, he waved it off. "Not the weirdest thing you'll see here, trust me."

"Yeah, speaking of weird," she brought up, "I just ran into Raph. He said something about some big conspiracy theory surrounding Allison's dad, and to not bring it up to Leo or Mikey. What gives?"

With a sigh, Donatello told her, "Raph and I think that there's more behind the sudden appearance of Allison's father than meets the eye. When we confronted him about it, Leo and Mikey scolded us, which almost started something of a ninja turtle civil war in the middle of the convention. Since Raph and I are still convinced that there's something fishy going on—for details that I won't describe for the fear of sounding like a paranoid delusional—we don't want Leo and Mike to know that I'm trying to find out all I can about this guy."

"Well, here's some more fuel to the fire," April said. "When Raph asked me if there was anything strange about him, the only thing I could think of is that he uses the same cologne as my dad, which was discontinued over twenty years ago. According to my father, you can't find it anywhere anymore. It's called _Black Candle_. Kind of an eerie name, now that I think about it. Anyway, I can't tell you who the manufacturer is or anything, but Raph wanted me to pass along the information, in case it helped."

"Sinister name for a scent," Donatello remarked wryly. "Unfortunately, unless I discover that a man named Vincent Grayson was found dead due to a cologne overdose, I can't imagine how it would help me. Still, it's smart of Raphael to think of the details. Guess he's got a head on his shoulders when it comes to someone he cares about."

Taking it into consideration, April commented, "Well, you have to admit, he and Mikey have been having less fights, and he hasn't been butting heads with Leo as often. When he gets angry, he usually just runs to her and she straightens him out. She's really good for him."

"They're good for _each other_," Donatello clarified. "Allison's been… so much happier since Raph came into the picture. At first, I thought it was just because she got along with all of us really well, but as time went on, I got to see that Raphael's done something to her. Made her know who she was. And that makes her really happy." He sighed again, looking down. In a murmur that was more to himself, he wondered, "I just don't understand why the others don't seem to see that."

As he looked away, April's gaze on him softened. Though she never said anything, she often wondered if Donatello didn't have something of a crush on Allison, and kept quiet about it because Raphael got to her first. Donatello and Allison seemed like an unlikely match, but that rarely ever figured into unrequited feelings.

"Well, I'm going to go and look for the boys," April told him. "Good luck searching… and for everyone's sake, I'm going to hope that you and Raph are just being overly protective of Allison." Hoping that that was the case as well, Donatello waved to her as she headed off.

Rubbing his temple, Donatello turned back to the computer screen. "Hey Matt, I just came back from playing_ Ocarina of Time_ in the gaming room!" Shaking his head, Donatello tried to ignore the snippets of conversation he heard from the pair of teenaged boys that had entered the room.

As he typed the words "Black Candle cologne" into a Google search, Donatello heard Matt's reply: "_Ocarina of Time_? Oh man, I loved that game! I haven't played it in years!"

"Me neither," responded the first boy. "I continued someone else's game and got to that shadow dungeon thing. Oh man, that place creeped me out when I was a kid! But it pissed me off so bad, because I couldn't remember where the Eye of Truth was hidden. You can't beat that level without the Eye of Truth!"

"Eye of Truth," asked the other boy. Donatello's uninterested eyes skimmed the search page as the second boy asked what the Eye of Truth was, since he didn't remember.

"It's like this magnifying glass," the first boy answered. "Only, instead of magnifying things, it tells you what's real. Like, you could look ahead and see a wall, but when you use the Eye, you see that there isn't a wall there, really. It's just some kinda hologram or something."

"Oh! I remember now," proclaimed his friend. "And one of the bosses of that level ends up having a bunch of fake bad guys come at you, and they distract you unless you use the Eye to figure out which one's real, right?"

"Yup," was the reply. "I love that trick. Especially when you see it in anime. Like, if there's only one of you, and you gotta go up against like six bad guys, all you gotta do is make them think there's more of you than what there actually is. Then, while they're busy fighting with the fakes, you can pick 'em off one by one."

Donatello stopped scrolling down the webpage, feeling a chill. He remembered April coming in and asking if everyone was in one place or scattered around. His eyes widening, he had the distinct impression that he probably understood what was going on. _Only, I don't think _this_ game has an Eye of Truth_.

Quickly closing his searches, he got up and hoped that April hadn't gone too far away.


	5. Chapter 5

"So why a turtle costume? Seems a bit complicated."

Michelangelo offered a sideways glance to the costumed boy in front of him. "You're one to talk, buddy. Scooby Doo isn't exactly what I'd consider one of the more mainstream costume choices."

The masked Scooby sighed, crossing his paws over his chest. "I lost a bet, okay? Not my fault. I thought me wearing this huge head and dragging this stupid tail would be bad enough. The paws are what make it worse though; I can't even scratch an itch."

"Bummer," Michelangelo sympathized. "Still, I'm willing to bet you haven't been mauled by fangirls."

"Did you forget, buddy?" Scooby asked. "My friends _are_ the fangirls. And rabid ones, at that." With that, they turned their heads to witness how Leonardo was doing with his photo shoot with Naruto, Mel, and the Scooby gang. "I feel bad for your friend," Scooby remarked. "Carrying that huge shell must be enough of a pain without having to deal with a group of girls shadowing your every move. What are the shells made out of, anyway?"

"We know a thing or two about shadows," Michelangelo replied, purposely avoiding the question about the shells. "If Leo _really _wanted to get away, I don't think he'd have too much trouble ducking out. Part of him probably _enjoys_ the attention." With a chuckle, he added, "If he had only let me bring the smoke pellets, this wouldn't be such a problem."

"Hey! Mikey!" Michelangelo turned just in time to receive a high-five from Casey. After explaining that he and April decided to spend the weekend at the convention, Casey looked at him and his new friend. "A turtle and a talkin' dog. Woo boy, and I thought I'd already seen enough craziness in my life."

"Nice mask," Scooby remarked, looking at the hockey mask in Casey's hand and the golf bag slung over his back. "Let me guess; you're Jason after his chainsaw dies out."

"Somethin' like that," Casey replied absently. He had caught sight of Leonardo."Whoa, check out your bro and the babes. Man, I wished Allison had given me a bigger part in the movie; I could use some 'a that action, too." Scooby asked if they were friends with Allison Grayson, to which Casey answered, "Oh sure. You didn't know? We're the ones she based her movie-"

"Ha!" Michelangelo laughed loudly, giving Casey a hard nudge with his elbow. "Yeah, he wishes! Naw, we're just pals of hers. Nothing in the movie's got anything at all to do with us whatsoever. _Right_, Casey?"

Rubbing his injury, Casey laughed nervously and agreed. Scooby, however, didn't seem convinced. "Hey," the young man under the mask said, "I get it. Casey. That's the name of the guy with the motorcycle in _Sewer Dwellers_, isn't it? Wow, are you her real-life boyfriend or something?"

"_Ex_," Casey lied. "She's a nice kid 'n all, but-"

"But what, Mr. Jones?" Casey stopped as he heard April's voice directly behind him. Turning around he saw her with her arms crossed over her chest, giving him a hard look. "And think on your answer a bit, or else it's going to be a long, cold winter."

"Casey," Michelangelo whispered to him, "your line is, 'But then I met the most beautiful, caring, amazing girl in the entire world.'" Repressing another laugh, he turned back to Scooby. "Naw, Allison based another character in the movie off of her boyfriend. That hothead turtle with the sai. Don't know what she sees in him, but they've been pretty steady for months."

"_That_ jerk?" Scooby asked, aghast. "Are you serious? I spent the entire movie wishing that someone would just teach him a lesson and shut him up! Heh, I can only imagine what he looks like in real life. Must be an Orlando Bloom lookalike or something, because there's no way I can handle a girl going for someone with that creep's personality who _also_ looked like a turtle. Yech."

Michelangelo, Casey, and April didn't answer. After all, what could they say? Luckily, they didn't have to think long on it. "April!" The group turned to see Donatello making his way towards them. "Am I glad I found you. Listen, uh… remember that thing we were just talking about? With the guy and the thing? Because I think I know what the thing is that bothered me." As he spoke, he nudged his head, signaling for her to follow him.

"What, are you still hung up on that?" Michelangelo asked incredulously. "Excuse us, Scoobs; family business." Giving the cosplayer his shell, he approached Donatello and lowered his voice. "Okay, Donnie, I _know_ that you're not still on Vince Grayson's case. Leo and I _told_ you-"

"What, Allison's dad?" Casey asked. "Raph told me there was somethin' up there. Somethin' about his eyes glowin'?"

"His _what_ what-ing?" Michelangelo inquired, snapping his attention to Casey. Peering back at Donatello, he forced himself to keep his voice down as he hissed, "Dude, you _neglected_ to tell us that part!"

"I might've gotten there," Donatello told him, "if only _someone_ hadn't jumped down our throats!"

"Okay, I don't know what your problem is," Michelangelo responded, becoming uncharacteristically antagonistic. "Maybe little Kilik is upset that Maxi's the one who's actually thinking with a clear head in this case. If this is about us needing to rumble, then I'm more than happy to bring it, bro. Just don't drag Allison down with you."

"Mikey, _listen to yourself_!" Donatello said, taking a step away from the group of friends closing in on him. "We've been poking fun at each other for days; do you really think I'd let something as stupid as that blow over right here in the middle of a convention?"

"Why not?" Donatello was shocked when Michelangelo pushed him away, using the trashcan lid in his hands to send him further backwards. April gasped and had to grab Donatello's arm to keep him from falling. "You wanna settle this in the combat ring, or right here?" Casey tried to pull him away, but Michelangelo shrugged him off.

"Mikey," Donatello murmured, looking up at his brother. "What… what's wrong with you?" _I know what's wrong_, he thought to himself. _Oh crud, I really hoped that I wasn't right this time._

"Michelangleo!" Leonardo had shaken off the girls and was purposefully approaching his brothers. Yanking Michelangelo backwards upon noticing the strange looks they were getting, he asked, "Just what the shell do you think you're doing, Mikey?"

Michelangelo blinked, then shook his head. He noticed that the guy who was dressed up as Scooby Doo had taken off his mask and was peering at him with concern in his eyes. Even though they had only been talking for a few minutes, even _he_ had been able to discern that Michelangelo was a pretty laid-back guy. Why he'd suddenly attack someone with such vehemence in the name of "family business" was beyond him.

"Whoa…" Michelangelo remarked, a hand going to his head as though he had just been dazed. He looked back up to Leonardo. "Sorry, Leo. I… I don't know what happened, man. I just got… really, really angry and… whoa. Donnie, I…." He stopped when he turned to look at his brother.

Donatello and April were gone.

* * *

"So _what_ exactly are we dealing with?" April asked as they ran through the dealers' room.

"I'm not sure," Donatello replied. "But when these kids started talking about a video game, things started clicking together. That game's set in a fantasy world, and it reminded me about faerie legends. According to the stories, faeries excel at a type of magic spell known as glamour."

"Illusions," April interjected.

"Right," he responded. "But a specific _type_ of illusion. It's basically a mind-meld. It can look really convincing at first, but there's always one fatal flaw; something being too beautiful or too perfect, for instance, or maybe, I don't know—a cologne that doesn't exist anymore. Once you can find it, the entire illusion falls apart. However, faeries are also skilled at enchantment, meaning that most people who fall under their spells don't _want_ to see the truth once it's been revealed. You have to force it on them."

They stopped at the weapons table. "Great," April said dubiously. "So you're trying to convince me that we're dealing with an evil faerie?" When she noticed that the weapons dealer gave her a strange look, she quickly added, "—in the final level of that video game? No wonder it's so hard to beat."

"You know," Donatello remarked under his breath, "I really wish people would stop being surprised when the 'logical one' tries to bring up something a little left of center." Scanning the weapons, he picked up a pair of small dull daggers. "How much are these?" When he was told that the pair sold for ten dollars, he looked to April. "Can you spring for it, April? I'm a little tapped."

April was about to object, but noticed something about his chosen weapons. Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "I can't believe I'm doing this," even as she took out her wallet and paid for the purchase. Daggers in hand, Donatello motioned for April to follow him. As they quickly made their way to the escalators, April said, "Let me guess. Faerie folk are repulsed by iron and so a couple of iron weapons will prove whether or not Allison's dad is a faerie.'

"You know," Donatello brought up as they sped down the escalator, "for someone who routinely deals with mutants, aliens, and alternate dimensions, you would think you'd be a little more open-minded. And besides, I'm not saying that he's a faerie, though it's possible. I _am_ thinking, though, that there's faerie magic at work. It sounds bizarre, but it's the only thing I can think of that would explain everything that's been going on, even Mikey's recent hostility. The blind defenses sound suspiciously like an enchantment spell."

He stopped suddenly, causing April to bump into his shell. "You didn't… touch him, did you?" April asked what he meant, and he clarified, "I just realized that Raph and I are the only ones who didn't shake his hand, and we're also the only ones who are suspicious of him. Maybe his enchantment spell works most directly through touch."

"I shook his hand," April replied, "but I just came in from outside, so I was wearing my gloves. Casey did too, and he was wearing his fingerless gloves."

Thinking about this as they stepped off the escalator, Donatello murmured, "Then if I'm right, we may need to worry about the odds being strongly against us. You, me, and Raph, against Leo, Mike, Casey, and Allison. I never thought I'd say this, but let's pray that I'm horribly wrong." He looked both ways as he asked, "Do you remember which way they went?"

April looked around the hall. "No. I think they said something about it being too cold outside and wanting to get some coffee or something, but I don't remember where the food court is."

"Then we'll have to split up," Donatello said, handing her one of the daggers. "Here, take this and make sure that your shell cell is on. Whoever finds them first will call the other. And I know I don't have to tell you this, but if you find them, don't make a move until I can get to you. We run the risk of getting hurt or, worse yet, hurting an innocent man." April nodded and accepted the weapon.

Though she still thought the whole scenario was crazy, she hid the dagger up her sleeve as they split up.

* * *

Raphael continued to keep a watchful eye on Allison and Vincent.

Vincent was still talking, and Raphael was still unsuccessful in overhearing him or in figuring out his body language. He gave up quickly enough, focusing his entire attention on Allison. She seemed so very concerned, and he found that the more time he spent thinking about the situation, the more right Leonardo and Michelangelo probably were.

_I'm an idiot_, he thought to himself._ I've just been holdin' her down._ _All this time, she coulda been in LA reapin' the profits from her movie… and she came back for me. And I just let her. I knew where she was better off, and I ended up just bein' selfish because I liked havin' her around. _

He thought about her interaction with Robert over the course of the day, and hated the stab of jealousy that surged through him. Robert had a steady, interesting job. He had a beautiful baby girl. Raphael could tell that he was reasonably attractive and financially well-off. And not only that… he made Allison happy. He thought about the antique pendant that Robert had bought from April's shop… and it became ever-more apparent that Raphael wasn't the boyfriend here. Robert was. At least, he was the one who was actually _acting_ like it.

And after all, wasn't he the one who deserved her? Wasn't he the one who could meet Allison's father without wearing a "mask" and go out to dinner with them? Wasn't he the one that could gain parental approval? Wasn't he the one who could date her and actually take her _out_ on dates? Wasn't he the one that could _marry_ her, if that was what he wanted? Raphael couldn't do any of that. All Raphael could offer was the occasional nighttime visit—and that was only if one of his mortal enemies didn't snuff him out first.

_No matter what I do, one of us always ends up getting hurt_, Raphael realized, despondently looking out at the father/daughter pair. _And I don't want to hurt her. So does that mean it's up to me to break it off? …or does that mean I actually _do_ "deserve" her? And who's settin' up the guidelines to figure out how deservin' a guy is, anyway? _

In his ponderings, Raphael didn't notice that the food court became mysteriously empty. No one was even passing through, which is unusual for a Friday afternoon in a convention center as large as this. It was _also_ unusual for the air behind Raphael to suddenly rip open, as though a portal had been unlocked. As Raphael continued to stare out at Allison and Vincent, a tall, gaunt figure clad in gray robes stepped in behind him as the portal closed. With a grim expression on its emaciated face, it reached out a long bony arm towards the turtle's shoulder.

"Raph! Behind you!"

"Huh?" Raphael spun around. "What the-?" He didn't finish the outcry before the skeletal hand wrapped around his throat. He saw April come up behind the creature, throwing a punch. With its free hand, the figure grabbed April's wrist.

Raphael watched as its eyes suddenly went agape and it opened its mouth. Before it could say anything, it seemed to dissipate in a sudden puff of sparks, as though someone had thrown glittery confetti in the air. Raphael and April blinked at one another in confusion as the remnants of the creature seemed to disappear in thin air.

"Raphael?" The pair turned at the sound of Allison's voice. Having heard the voices, she had apparently gotten up and looked behind the pillar to investigate. Breathing hard from the adrenaline, Raphael was about to tell Allison that he was okay when he realized that that wasn't her concern. For the first time in a long time, she seemed… _angry_. "You… you were spying on me?"

The low tone in which she said the words was enough to send a wave of guilt over Raphael. "Uh…" he stumbled as he saw Vincent walking towards them. "… 'spying' is such a harsh word. I was… uh… okay, so I was spying."

"After I asked for some privacy?" Allison asked, trying to wrap her mind around this. "After knowing that I had to have a personal conversation with my dad? Raph, you know I would have given you the details once we were alone together. But maybe you knew that I wouldn't want to be alone with you for a long time."

"Wha-?" Raphael started.

"Sweetheart," Vincent said, coming up behind Allison. "Help me out; I'm a little new at this parenting thing. Should I intervene, stay out of this-"

"You stay right the hell out of this!" Raphael barked out. Allison yelled at him to stop it, sparking a full-fledged argument. "Stop it?" Raphael asked. "Stop what? Stop watchin' your back? Stop carin' about you? Stop-"

"Oh, this isn't about caring about me, Raph," Allison interjected. "This is a long way from caring about me. If this were about caring about me, you would have respected my wishes when I asked for privacy. _This_ is about the fact that you feel threatened!"

"Threatened?!" Raphael spat out in disbelief.

"Yes, threatened," Allison went on. "We've been together six months, and we've hardly acted like it! I wait for you in my apartment, or I go train with Leonardo while you're lifting weights. We're not in love; we're just _comfortable_. And the moment something breaches your comfort zone, you need to crash right in like the Incredible Hulkand make it seem like you're riding in on a white horse. News flash, Raph: the Hulk doesn't ride a white horse. You can either be a belligerent maniac or a knight in shining armor. Right now, you're being one and pretending you're the other."

"Belligerent?" Raphael asked. "Bell-… you think I'm _belligerent_? Okay, yeah, I'm pretty sure I've heard Leo or Don call me that once or twice before, but that ain't the case right now. I'm tellin' you, there's somethin' seriously warped goin' on here."

"He's right, Allison," April cut in. "I saw-"

"Don't even start, April," Allison shocked them by saying. "Every time I have an issue with Raphael, it needs to be filtered through his brothers or his sensei or his friends. I'm an _adult_. I'd like to see Raph as an _adult_. Adults deal with things one-on-one, face-to-face. If he can't handle that-"

"Okay, whoa, stop the reel," Raphael interrupted. "Call me crazy, but I think that's what I'm tryin' to do right now. Maybe not one-on-one, because we've got more people than that scenario calls for, but we're here face-to-face. And who's the one screamin' and developin' an attitude? That's right, sister: ain't me."

Allison glared at him, but said nothing else. Raphael saw that her cheeks were flushed, and remembered thinking about how sweet she always looked when they were like that. He had never seen her face red with rage before. It was definitely a different story altogether.

"Raphael," she finally said, reaching a hand out behind her for Vincent. As he took her hand, she told the turtle, "I've got a lot going on right now. People I haven't thought about for twenty years have suddenly become incredibly important to me. And people that I see every day can't seem to accept that." He was about to argue, but she went on. "Just don't speak. Don't say anything. Because if you do, we're both going to say something we'll regret. Or worse yet, we might say something that has been a long time coming."

With Vincent holding her hand, Allison lowered her eyes and walked back towards the convention hall.

* * *

Donatello arrived on the scene less than a minute after April's call on his shell cell. 

He spotted April and Raphael sitting at a table in the middle of the food court. It didn't escape his notice that Raphael appeared visibly depressed. April had a comforting hand on his shell and was looking at him with concern. "Raph!" Donatello called as he approached. "Are you o-"

"Don't ask, Donnie," Raphael replied. The broken sound to his voice hurt Donatello more than he was willing to admit. "Just… don't ask. I'm really not in the mood to talk about this." Donatello and April shared concerned glances at one another as Donatello sat down.

"I tried explaining the faerie business," April said, "but I guess it sounds even crazier when I say it. Still… that doesn't change what I saw. And what I saw was definitely a faerie."

"You saw a faerie?" Donatello asked, surprised. "Are you sure? W… you didn't mention that! You just told me to get over here. How do you know what it was?"

"I run an antique shop, Donnie," April remarked. "You'd be surprised how much you can pick up on mythical creatures in some of those old books. At least, on _supposed_ mythical creatures." She sighed, dropping her hand from Raphael. "It was tall, thin… faeries are said to be a sick, dying race. That's why they use glamour spells—they want to make themselves look as beautiful as they used to be. The thing is… I always read that faeries rarely ever attempt to use physical strength over their magical strength, since they're aware of their physical limitations. And they're also believed to be incredibly intelligent. So… why would one of them attempt to strangle Raphael?"

"Kill him?" Donatello queried, now worried. "It… it tried to kill him?"

"No," Raphael spoke up. "It wasn't tryin' to kill me. It put its hand around my throat, but it didn't really squeeze. Or even if it did, it didn't use all of its strength. And if it did… I think it _knew_ that it wasn't strong enough to really hurt me. There was somethin' about its face… like it didn't want to do what it was doing, but it had no choice."

They let this sink in for a while before Donatello breathed, "So I was right after all. Maybe faeries aren't directly involved, but faerie magic is. Someone's using their powers against us. The question is, why? Why us? Why Allison?"

"Yeah," Raphael said sarcastically. "Who could _possibly_ want to hurt poor, innocent, butt-kickin' us? Get real, bro. Who _wouldn't_ want to put a whammy on us? From aliens to government spies to transdimensional assassins, we've been a thorn in enough sides to make me surprised that all our enemies haven't teamed up in an attempt to wipe the floor with us. As for why Allison, why not? If any members of our rogues' gallery are aware that one of us actually has _feelings_ for somebody, then she'd be the first person they go through. It'd be a sore spot for me, which'll end up makin' the team fall apart one by one."

Remembering the conversation he had overheard in the Wi-Fi room, Donatello brought up, "That reminds me. The four of us had that big spat on top of the escalators earlier. Well, get this: Mikey actually tried to pick a fight with me in the dealers' room. And I don't mean in typical Mikey fashion. If Leonardo hadn't intervened, I'm thinking that he would have seriously attempted to cream me."

"Mikey?" Raphael asked, surprised. "Our Mikey? Pickin' fights? …I'm gonna get blamed for this, ain't I?"

"Probably," Donatello answered. "Point is, when have the four of us ever had an all-out brawl with one another? Even Leo was starting to get a little huffy by the escalators; you could see it in his eyes. It had been Leo and Mikey against you and me… but in the dealer's room, after Mikey's outburst, Leo might have turned on _him_."

"And if April hadn't been here after Allison chewed me out," Raphael realized, "I'd snap at _you_ and that'd get the two of us fightin'. Someone's tryin' to get us all to break apart. Why, though?"

"Divide and conquer," Donatello said. "Remember that analogy Splinter gave us: if you try to break a bundle of sticks that are bound together, you'll fail miserably. But if you separate them and deal with them individually, they'll snap with hardly any effort."

"So there's some good news to all of this," April realized. "If that's the case, then this is someone you've defeated before and now knows the power of your combined strength. They're trying to break you guys up because they're scared."

"Fear ain't always a weakness," Raphael said, thinking back to his feelings about Allison. "Sometimes, the more you're scared 'a losin' somethin', the harder you're willin' to fight to make sure you _don't_ lose."

"That's true," April admitted, "but the other good thing is that you guys _haven't_ split up. Not all of you, anyway. You and Donnie are still on the same side. Even if Leo and Mike are under some kind of spell-"

"Okay, that's _enough_."

The trio looked up to see Leonardo walking towards them, his arms crossed over his chest. "Spell? Splitting up? What on Earth have the three of you been doing? April, are you actually indulging them in this nonsense?"

Raphael growled and tried to stand, but April kept him down. "Raph, _don't_," she warned him. Turning to Leonardo, she answered, "It's not nonsense, Leo. I thought it was, too, but I _saw_ something attack Raph."

"The way he acts," Leonardo broke in, "seeing someone attack him isn't anything new." Raphael was about to speak up again, but Leonardo waved his arm, a wide gesture signaling impatience. "Look, I don't want to hear your arguments or your conspiracy theories. If you think I came down here to fight and prove all of you right, then you're sorely mistaken. I just thought you'd like to know, Raph—in case you still _cared_—that whatever you did down here has made Allison very upset. Mikey's with her now, trying to keep her distracted, but she's…." He stopped himself, as though noticing the rising anger in his own voice and needing a moment to rein it in. "She's not doing too well. Mikey and I are going to head home, and Casey said that the two of you can hitch a ride back with him, if you want to stay longer. I strongly suggest, though, that you _don't_."

Raphael looked down, taking all of this in. Finally, he turned to Donatello. "Go home, Donnie." His brother was about to object, but Raphael wouldn't listen. "Trust me. You're probably more useful to me at home, with your computers 'n stuff. You'll call me if you find somethin'."

"Raph," Leonardo said, "I recommend that _you_ come home, too. Allison is in no position to-"

"Leo," Raphael told him with a glare, "the only thing that's keepin' me from kickin' your shell is the possibility that Donnie's right and you're under somebody's influence or somethin'. So I suggest you take that as a blessin' and go home now, before I start threatenin' to rearrange your face."

"Okay," Donatello quickly said as he rose to his feet and stood between his brothers. "Okay, I'll go. I don't see any reason why Raph shouldn't be able to stay. He'll just hang out with April and Casey until they decide to go home. April will watch him. She will. Right, April?"

April met Donatello's eyes. She remembered about the possibility of Casey being under the enchantment spell, and realized that she would be the only one to really have Raphael's back should something come up. With a nod, she answered, "Yeah. Of course."

Reaching into his bag, Donatello took out the iron dagger he had kept with him. "Here," he said, offering it to Raphael. "Take this. I had meant to give it to _Allison_, but I'm thinking _Allison_ doesn't want to see me right now. So you can have it." Raphael accepted it, knowing what he was meant to do with it.

"No funny business," Leonardo warned Raphael as Donatello got ready to leave. "I mean it. We've caused enough problems today as it is. I'm surprised that security hasn't thrown us out yet."

With a glance to April, Leonardo told her to call him at the slightest sign of trouble. Even as she agreed, Leonardo added, "I'm trusting you on this, April. I'm going to have a stern talk with Donatello to figure out why _he's_ been acting so strangely; I don't need to lose faith in _you_, too." Raphael and April both saw the horribly pained expression on Donatello's face at the sound of those words. As Leonardo led Donatello away, both Raphael and April knew for certain that—despite Leonardo's tendency to be a tad rigid—there _had_ to be something wrong with him if he chose to use words that were so blatantly hurtful.

After a while, Raphael looked at the dagger that Donatello had left with him. "What _is_ this? Some kinda rusted can opener or somethin'?"

"I think it's probably what saved your butt a few minutes ago," April told him, removing the dagger that she had hidden up her sleeve. "When that thing grabbed my wrist, it touched some of the knife. The iron blade must have been what made it go _poof_."

"Great," Raphael murmured cynically. "So we got a couple 'a blunt weapons that'll turn our enemies to pixie dust. Not my style, but appropriate."

"Blunt or not," April said, "these can still hurt somebody. So I don't suggest that you go slashing at Mr. Grayson with it until we know for sure what's going on."

"No one's gotta slash," Raphael reminded her. "Just a touch was all it took." He quieted down for a moment, suddenly deep in thought. April asked him what was wrong, and he shook his head. "Nuthin'. I just remembered somethin'." Looking down at the dagger once again, he murmured, "Iron, huh? Who'd 'a guessed?"

April asked him what he was planning on doing, and Raphael responded that he meant to give the dagger to Allison. "Oh, don't do that, Raph," April pleaded. "You heard what Leo said; you'd be better off giving her some time to cool down… or to at least spend some time away from her dad—or whatever that is that's claiming to be her dad."

"I ain't gonna give it to her now," Raphael assured her. "Later, though. I don't know if she'll end up takin' him back to her apartment, but I'm gonna find some time to have that one-on-one, face-to-face talk with her. I'm still gonna hang around here, just so I can keep an eye on her. If this whole faerie business is for real, then there's no way I'm gonna just give her my shell. Besides, I still got that block in the combat ring reserved for me 'n somebody else. You game?"

Trying to forget about the recent strangeness, the pair got up and went back to the convention.


	6. Chapter 6

_I can't believe I've actually dated him this long._

Allison found that, among other angry thoughts, this one buzzed through her head the most. She was sitting in her bedroom, combing out her wet hair after coming out of her nightly shower. Staring into the mirror over her desk, she attacked the tangles in her long dark brown hair just as she wished she could attack Raphael. _After that ridiculous display in the food court… ugh, he's such a… words can't describe…._

Aggravated, Allison slammed the comb down on her desk. Discovering that she was about to sob, she leaned in and rested her face in her hands. She didn't understand it. Why couldn't Raphael be happy for her? Why did even Donatello try to instigate something with her father? Why were all the turtles acting so _strangely_ around her all of a sudden?

_Maybe they know_, she thought. _Maybe they know that… this is it. That Raphael and I aren't going to last much longer. And once we're over, why would they need to maintain a relationship with me? _The thought of losing the majority of her friends just because of a disagreement with her boyfriend made Allison want to cry.

She swallowed her tears when she heard a light tapping at her window. Making sure that her face wouldn't give any signs of her sadness, Allison got up, meaning to open it. She stopped when she realized that the window and blinds _were_ open. Raphael simply decided to knock.

Instinctively tightening her robe around herself, she cleared her throat. Neither of them said anything for a long time. Finally, Allison weakly offered, "Hey."

"Hey," Raphael replied lowly. "Can we talk?"

"About what?" Allison asked, lowering her eyes. "About how my father's placed an evil spell over everyone except you and Donatello, so you're the only ones who can see the horrifically nefarious plot that he's developing?"

"Leo told ya, huh?" Raphael remarked, still balancing on the window sill outside. "Figures. Still, it don't change the fact that I wanna come in and talk to ya. So can I, or are ya so in love with Daddy Dearest that you're gonna let poor old Raph freeze to death out here?"

His sarcastic undertone did little to appease Allison's anger, but she wasn't about to let him stay out in the cold. "Come in. Just don't expect to leave here happy if you came here to explain the magical incantation that I've been placed under."

"You know," he told her as he nimbly stepped into the room, "I'm gonna tell ya somethin' along the same lines that Donnie told April. For somebody who's fought a crazy robot clone of a secret government agent and who temporarily mutated into a psychotic, sadistic giant rat, you're one heck of a skeptic."

"You can say what you want," Allison informed him as she sat at her desk. "Just know that I'm not going to smile and nod and tell you what a wonderful genius you are. And speaking of geniuses, I'm not exactly pleased with Donatello's behavior either, so if he's planning on coming back to the convention tomorrow, he should at least have the decency to apologize to me and my father."

"Where is he?" Raphael asked, looking around as he lowered his voice. "Is he hanging around here, or does he have his own secret hideout?"

With an annoyed sigh, Allison told him, "Daddy's staying at a hotel near the convention. Robert was here for a while, but he left when I told him I was going to take a shower. We're alone. So we can raise our voices and throw things at one another without anyone being the wiser."

"How's this for surprises, kid," Raphael said as he edged closer to her, his voice still low. "I ain't aimin' on yellin' or nuthin'. Honest. I just wanna talk. Want ya to see things from my point of view. And if ya can't, I want ya to tell me why. I think in some circles, that's known as a conversation."

"Oh, now Raphael's lecturing me on social pleasantries and civilized manners," Allison remarked as she rolled her eyes. "Great. Would you like to make us a spot of tea and organize a cookie tray, while you're at it?"

"You've been pickin' up on all my bad habits," he noticed. "Stubborn, sarcastic, cocky-" Seeing that this was in no way earning Allison's favor, he defensively put his hand up. "Okay, okay. So I'm still king 'a the big mouths. So sue me."

Raising an eyebrow, Allison impatiently waited for Raphael to say what he had come here to say. Seeing that he was walking on thin ice, Raphael didn't hesitate. "Donnie's pretty sure that there's some magic workin' to drive the four of us apart. By gettin' me worried about you, Leo and Mikey can tell me to back off, startin' fights between all of us. Since Donnie's on my side, Mikey's been givin' him grief, makin' Leo snap at Mikey too. Anyway, once we're all growling in our own little worlds, we're openin' ourselves up to a whole lotta danger because we're less likely to work together. And since it all started once your dad came into the picture, ya can't blame us for suspectin' that he's got somethin' to do with it. That, plus Donnie's pretty sure he saw your dad's eyes flash green at one point."

"Flash green?" Allison asked incredulously. "I believe that's known as a trick of the light." When Raphael shook his head, Allison explained, "Raphael, his eyes probably flashed green because they _are_ green, and there was probably some strobe going off from the display table nearby that made it seem like his eyes were glowing. I mean, my eyes are light brown, so if you spot them 'flashing' amber, are you going to immediately assume that I'm some kind of demon or something?"

"Faerie," Raphael corrected.

"What?" Allison asked.

Knowing he shouldn't have said anything, Raphael answered, "Donnie and April seem to think that the magic that's being pulled is the faerie kind, not demonic. Although, they might be related; I dunno."

"Fairy?" Allison questioned, completely flabbergasted. She didn't know whether to laugh or scream. "You're accusing my dad of being Tinkerbell's evil brother?!"

"I'm thinkin' _these_ faeries are a little scarier than your cute little winged pixies," Raphael guessed. "I mean, considerin' that one of 'em looked like a skeleton with spray-on skin over its bones as it tried to choke me, I'm gonna go ahead and say yeah, faeries ain't what Disney says they are."

Leaning against the back of her chair, Allison covered her face in her hands, weakly laughing in disbelief. "Raphael," she breathed exasperatedly. "I'm beginning to think you're making up this stuff just because you miss the idea of me needing to be protected from mortal danger-"

"Don't even _think_ that!" Allison stopped and looked at Raphael. She was surprised to see that he had crouched in front of her chair, his voice passionate. "For God's sake, how can ya even say that? Don't ya think I _want_ this to be your dad? Don't ya think I _want_ ya to be happy? All day at the convention, don't ya know how much it killed me to know that you were in the same room as me, but didn't want me to so much as _look_ at you? Fine, I'm crazy because I think a bunch 'a evil faeries are tryin' to destroy my family by goin' through you. But if you think for one second that that's what I _want_ to believe, then you're every bit as crazy as me.

"Allison," he continued, proving that he was serious by actually calling her by her name, "I _am_ crazy. Crazy about _you_. We both know that I can be a jerk, and sometimes I wonder why I stick it out when you've got Rob there to treat ya so much better than I can. But it's because I _want_ to stick it out. I wanna be with you, and I wanna accept this Vincent guy for who he says he is. But as long as there's any chance that he ain't, I gotta make sure that you're gonna be safe. So there ya have it. I don't listen to ya because I care about ya too much to listen. It don't make no sense, but neither do most things in life."

Allison found that she was completely torn. Though she wanted to believe that Raphael was being unusually rash—even for _him_—concerning his hostility towards her father, she couldn't ignore the honesty in his eyes. Whatever fantastical dangers he was imagining, he truly _believed_ in them. She didn't know if she should take this as a sign that she should heed his words or that he was beginning to show marks of insanity.

"If you only knew," she said in a cracked voice, surprised to feel tears streaming down her eyes. "If you only knew what I felt when he told me his name… how it feels when he holds my hand…. Raphael, this is my _dad_. I know it is. No one else could have told me the things he told me."

"What kinds of things?" Raphael asked, reaching up a hand to dry her tears.

With a laugh, she remarked, "The things you overheard in the food court."

"I didn't hear nuthin'," Raphael professed quietly. "I was just there to keep an eye on ya. Remember… I care too much to listen." Seeing that this brought a fresh store of tears to her eyes, Raphael reached up and gently grabbed her face with both hands. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. Donnie's seein' what he can find out about him, just so we know this isn't just some guy who's tryin' to get in good with a celebrity after watchin' your movie. Cuz black magic aside, _that's_ a real possibility, too. We're lookin' out for ya, kid. You get that?"

Though she was still uncomfortable by the lack of trust and the background check that Vincent was being subjected to, Allison nodded. "Just… can you at least _pretend_ to trust him, Raphael? If you're coming to the convention tomorrow, he'll be there, and… I mean, you don't even have to pretend to _like_ him, just-"

"I get it, kid, I get it," Raphael told her, offering a half-smile. "Don't worry, I got no intention of tickin' him off, _regardless_ of who he is. I got enough enemies on my own. And if it really means that much to ya, I'll bring Donnie up to him and we'll even apologize to the guy."

Allison's eyes widened. "You will?" When Raphael nodded, Allison narrowed her eyes. "Wait a minute… are you plotting something?"

"Why would ya say that?"

"Raphael openly willing to apologize?" As she spoke, Allison took hold of his wrists and pulled his hands down. "If you're so anxious to do that, I can only assume that it's because you want to get me in a good mood so I don't notice some sneaky, underhanded-"

"Kid," Raphael interrupted, placing a hand over her mouth, "we were havin' a moment. It was nice. We don't get moments like that too often. Mind if a guy revels a bit?"

She raised her eyebrow at him once again as she removed his hand. "The only thing more suspicious than a guy willing to say he's sorry is a guy who's eager to stay 'in the moment.' Except, maybe, for a guy bringing unexpected presents or something."

Raphael laughed as he reached behind him. "Ya sure you're not just hintin' that there's somethin' ya want?" She looked at him curiously as he pulled out something wrapped in a white cloth. "Donnie gave me this before Leo made him leave the convention early," he explained as he unwrapped it. "I think he wanted me to give it to ya."

Allison peered at the rusted iron blade, perplexed. "O…kay," she murmured, picking it up and holding it to the light. "It's… a knife. A dirty, dull knife. Made of… it's rusty, so I'm guessing… iron?" She returned her eyes to Raphael. "Is there some kind of hidden meaning behind it?"

Pleased that Allison didn't seem to know that iron repels faeries, Raphael shrugged. "You know Donnie. He worries about ya. Probably just wanted to make sure that ya had somethin' to protect yourself with in case somethin' bad _does_ go down."

"So he purchased a weapon that I could use against my father," she muttered. "How sweet. And he even made sure that it wasn't sharp, so I can't actually mortally wound the man. Just give him tetanus. Donatello thinks of everything."

Laughing at her dry humor, Raphael stood as he remarked, "Wow, we gotta stop hangin' out together." Realizing what he was saying, he blinked and immediately amended it with, "Uh, except _not_. Because if we stopped, then that'd mean… that wouldn't be good. Yeah. Not good at all."

"Well, as long as you don't do anything stupid tomorrow," Allison told him as she stood up, "then I'll see to it that nothing 'not good' happens." She gave him a small smile before her voice became serious once more. "I'm sorry about my outburst in front of April. I'm sure that was hard."

"I already forgot about it," he lied.

"Just… keep out of trouble tomorrow," she begged of him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Daddy's only in town for the weekend, and I don't know when I'll be able to make it to his place in Connecticut. You and Donatello can go ahead and be suspicious of him, just don't do anything that'll make the next two days seem like two hundred. Okay?"

"You got it," Raphael told her. "Ninja's honor."

"Ninjas _have_ no honor," she replied wryly. "Read one of Leonardo's books once in a while. Assassins for hire, that's basically all they were." Kissing him on the cheek, she added, "Thank goodness Splinter threw in some Bushido readings in there."

"Yeah, me without honor?" Raphael mused, embracing Allison. "Scary concept. Half 'a the city's population would be rottin' in a pool of blood. And now that we've got _that_ tasteful imagery in our minds, how about doin' better than a peck on the cheek?" After she laughingly obliged him, he murmured, "Oh wow, I missed that."

She grinned at him, happy that they were able to make amends. Looking back on it now, the whole thing seemed rather silly. Of _course_ it was in Raphael's nature to be suspicious; she wouldn't be surprised to discover that he didn't even like someone as harmless _Robert_. Why she blew up at him—and in front of her father and April, no less—she'd never figure out.

Removing one arm from around her waist, Raphael brought up almost shyly, "Though, about the whole unexpected presents thing, I guess I'm kinda guilty 'a that." Allison looked down to see that he was holding something in his hand. "I saw it at the convention," he explained as she held out her hand for it, "and I just thought that it'd be somethin' you'd wear."

Looking at the object that Raphael coiled in her palm, Allison laughed. It was a simple silver chain with a die-cast iron turtle pendant. The pendant itself was about two inches long, making it just about the size of a baby turtle. "Raphael," she remarked, still gazing at the gift. "This is so cute! Why on Earth would you-"

She stopped, her smile fading. Raphael tensed up, wondering if she finally made the iron association. After all, she was a writer, and writers had random knowledge on a wide variety of things. When she looked back up at him, he could see the sardonic humor in her eyes. "You know, in any typical relationship, this would be grounds for the suspicion that I'm being cheated on, Mister."

Raphael chuckled, both at her tone of voice and at the fact that his safeguards managed to sneak in undetected. "Oh sure," he replied. "Casey and I thought we'd swap girlfriends for a while. Hope ya don't mind."

After a moment, Allison smiled and whispered, "That's nice."

Confused, Raphael asked, "What?"

"You called me your girlfriend," she explained in a quiet voice. "I think that's the first time you ever actually called me that." Raphael remained in quiet contemplation, realizing that this was true. Not knowing what to say, Raphael leaned in and kissed her once more.

_Don't let nuthin' happen to her_, he silently prayed to an unknown deity as he embraced her tightly. _We've been through a lot, and I didn't come all this way from the guy she met to the guy standin' here just to lose her over somethin' as stupid as faerie business._

"So, when does the boyfriend switch become effective?" Allison asked. "Having Casey around will be awesome when it comes time for me to make a heavy trip to the supermarket."

With a laugh, Raphael answered, "I'll talk to Casey about it. For now, it's time I get goin' to the lair. I haven't been back all day, so Leo's probably bustin' a gut, waitin' for lecture time." Allison told him that she hoped Leonardo had cooled down as much as she had, and Raphael agreed.

With one more kiss, they said goodbye for the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Donatello's eyes occasionally went up to look at his brothers, even while he conducted his searches.

Leonardo and Michelangelo had told Splinter about the convention, leaving out the parts about the sudden fights that flared up. Donatello noticed that they seemed to speak exceptionally favorably about Vincent Grayson, confessing the desire to get to know him a little better. Michelangelo explained that Raphael wanted to spend some time with Allison, which is why they had left him behind. He was sure to come back soon, they said.

As the night wore on, the two of them began exchanging concerned glances. They sparred for a bit, watched some television, and even read the comics that Michelangelo had bought. Donatello was beginning to feel a little left out. _Crud_, he thought childishly as his clicked away from one fruitless search page and onto another. _I almost wish that _I_ had been hit with an enchantment spell. _

"Donnie." Donatello looked up, surprised to see that Leonardo had walked over to his workspace. "Are you sure Raphael's coming back? I mean, he didn't say that he was going to do anything… Raph-like, did he?"

Donatello shook his head. "It's bad enough that I disappoint you," he replied rather moodily. "You'd think I'd keep secrets from you, too?" He felt a stab of regret when he saw Leonardo's hurt expression. "No," he answered more civilly as he returned to his computer. "Relax. He might have decided to drop by Allison's place and is waiting for her dad to leave so he can talk to her. Raphael's not as much of a loose cannon when she's involved."

Leonardo seemed to accept this, but didn't move away. Donatello once again looked up and saw that his brother was looking down at him regretfully. "I'm sorry," Leonardo told him earnestly. "Today has just been insane. Between meeting Vincent and having to deal with a half dozen girls marveling over my so-called costume, I was really touchy by the time we left the convention. I said a lot of things I shouldn't have said. I understand that we can't all have the same opinions about people, and I blew things a little out of proportion with the speech I gave you on the way back. If I hurt you, please forgive me, Donnie."

Donatello was shocked by Leonardo's heartfelt apology. He had expected for both of his brothers to dutifully ignore him unless they were preparing to chew him out. Heck, he had even been prepared to defend himself against them and run off with Splinter, explaining what was going on as they hid out in April's apartment.

"Yeah, bro." Donatello turned to see that Michelangelo had approached behind Leonardo, his hand uncomfortably rubbing the back of his head. "It's been a weird day, female Narutos and talking dogs aside. Honest, man, I didn't mean to shove you like that. I'm entitling you to one free hit the next time you feel like smacking something, though. Does that make up for it?"

As his brothers apologized, it all began to fall into place for Donatello. The further away they got from Vincent and the less time they spent with him, the more normal Leonardo and Michelangelo behaved. Donatello was willing to bet that Vincent's enchantment had a distance limitation, which means that they'd be all right until they went back to the convention the next day. He'd have to find a way to either keep them away from Vincent or to make sure that the spell can be broken.

He was tempted to explain this to them in the hopes that, now that they were clear-headed, they would finally see things his way. He couldn't chance it, though. Not until he had something solid, something that would prove without a doubt that there was more to this than they had initially believed. As such, he merely smiled up at them. "Sure guys," he told them. "No hard feelings."

The simple statement surprised Leonardo and Michelangelo, who looked at one another, confused. "Dude," Michelangelo said, grabbing Leonardo's shoulder. "He's got that look in his eyes. Like he's planning something. Something scary. This doesn't involve monsters, does it, Donnie? Because I'm telling you, I'm sick of dealing with monsters!"

Donatello looked down and laughed. "No monsters, Mikey. Promise. There's just nothing else to say. Let's just keep in mind that we should take it easy on Raph when he comes back, okay? After the fight he had with Allison, I'm betting some apologies and the offer of one free smack will make him feel better too."

"Nuh-uh," Michelangelo exclaimed, shaking his head and backing away. "No way am I lettin' Raph in on that offer! He hits _hard_! You, you just smack me with that dumb stick of yours."

Narrowing his eyes jokingly, Donatello asked, "Do you _really_ want me to redeem that offer so soon, Mikey? Really?" He couldn't keep the threat going though, and soon burst out laughing. Leonardo and Michelangelo followed suit.

"Get back to whatever you were doing," he told them, happy that he got his brothers back for at least this one night. "I've got some work to do. When I'm done here, I'm going to see about fiddling with that trashcan lid so it doesn't hurt so much the next time you decide to bonk me with it."

Though Michelangelo took that as his cue to exit, Leonardo's face turned serious. "Donnie, I really hope you're not still looking into Vincent's background. At least think of Allison before you do anything-"

"I _am_ thinking of Allison, Leo," Donatello informed him, a little sharply. "I haven't been thinking about anyone _but_ Allison during this entire escapade, except for Raphael on a couple of occasions. You don't have to worry about me attacking Vincent or anything. I just want to make sure that this isn't some kind of sham. Believe me, I have Allison's best interests in mind."

Leonardo gazed at him levelly before seeming to concede. "All right. I'm none too happy about it, but you seem to know what you're doing. I'll trust you on this."

He was about to turn away when Donatello called his name. When Leonardo looked back at him, he was greeted by a warm smile. "Thanks," Donatello told him quietly, "for trusting me again."

Leonardo looked at him steadily, remembering the harsh way he had treated Donatello at the convention center. He couldn't remember exactly what it was that Donatello had done that he had perceived to be so terrible, but he now felt utterly remorseful for the way he had handled the situation. "Donnie," he told him sincerely. "You're my brother. Regardless of how I behave or what I say, I'm _always_ going to trust you."

He turned away, leaving Donatello to smile after him. He had his brothers back. Now Donatello had to figure out how he was going to make sure they weren't taken away from him again. _Easier said than done_, he thought as he turned back to his computer.

After a few seconds of typing, Donatello decided to refine his search. Remembering about the cologne April told him about, he typed in the terms "Vincent Grayson" and "Black Candle cologne," doubting that anything that met both criteria would turn up. He was surprised to be linked to a profile on someone named Vincent Grayson. It was a short paragraph, followed by a picture.

Donatello sat straight up. It was him. So, this man _was_ Vincent Grayson. Hopefully, he was also who he claimed to be. _Though that would throw one heck of a monkey wrench into my hypotheses._ Interested now, he read the short biography. It turns out that Vincent was the former marketing representative of the company that manufactured the short-lived _Black Candle_.

The profile contained a little information about his occupational history, as well as a mere sentence about his personal life. In this sentence, Donatello read that this man had a daughter living in New York. _Well, I guess the odds are against me_, he thought morosely. _This guy is definitely on the level._ His ponderings were cut short when he read the last sentence of the biography.

"Mr. Grayson lived in Waterbury, Connecticut until his death in May 2001 at the age of 52."

* * *

Ascertaining that no one was around, Raphael jumped down to the street level. 

He was happy. For the first time in days, he was actually happy. _I guess it took nearly losin' her to make me realize how much better off I am with her,_ he decided. As he dove into the alley where his manhole of choice was located, he hoped that Allison would wear the iron pendant tomorrow, just in case.

Just as he crouched down by the manhole cover, Raphael had the distinct impression that he was being watched. He reached for his sai, and almost cursed when he realized that he still had the plastic weapons with him. Donatello still had the real ones, and he had just given Allison the iron dagger.

"You needn't worry," said an unfamiliar voice behind him. "I didn't come here to harm you." Raphael got up and spun around. Judging by the inhumanly bony features and long gray hair of the tall being standing against the wall, Raphael could guess that this was yet another faerie.

"It ain't me that's gotta be worried about being harmed, chump," Raphael remarked. "From what I heard about you 'n your kind, ya wouldn't exactly be able to walk away if I decide to give ya a butt-whuppin' right here."

"It's to my great displeasure that I must agree with you," the faerie replied with what seemed like a breathy sigh. "However, you must also be aware, then, that rarely do we ever show our true faces to members of humanity—if that term may be used loosely here. Since I come without the disguise of, say, a certain young woman's father, I hope you can assume that I mean you no ill-will."

Raphael blinked, unsure of how to deal with the creature's flowery speech. With a glower, a sudden thought came to him. "So, this is what ya really look like, huh, Vincent? Or do ya have some fancy elf name like Legolas or somethin'?"

The faerie widened its pale gray eyes, shocked. "Sir, I'm most offended! I come here to offer my assistance, and you immediately associate me with the very beast that I wish to assist you with! No, my name is Kaldus, and I am not related to your 'Vincent,' as he chooses to call himself. I wouldn't sully myself by masquerading in the guise of a man long dead."

"Still, that don't mean-" Raphael stopped, realizing what had just been said. "Whoa, easy on the expansive vocabulary, Kal. Did I just hear ya say… _what_ did I just hear ya say?"

Kaldus sighed again, upturning his eyes. "Oh dear. Why couldn't I have stumbled upon the _intelligent_ one?" Though he was offended, Raphael said nothing as Kaldus explained. "Vincent Grayson is indeed the father of the young girl of which you are so very fond. However, the real Vincent Grayson has been dead for several years. A heart attack, I do believe. The man that is attempting to gain the trust of everyone he meets is only wearing Grayson's face. An imposter protected by the magic of my people."

"Uh-huh," Raphael murmured after taking this in. "Right. So if he's a fake and it's _your_ people protectin' him, _why_ am I not pummeling you right now?"

"Despite the antagonism in your voice," came the reply, "I must admit that you bring up a fair enough question. To put it quite simply, my land has been overwrought with famine for decades. Faerie folk are often quite desperate to do anything that will help us maintain our former glory, and I will be the first—and possibly only—to admit that this often leads us towards potentially destructive paths. One of our leaders encountered an injured creature from the very outskirts of space and time, who offered to restore our lands if we helped him in his goals. This creature promised us health and prosperity, and our High Councilmen were able to establish that, with his goals fulfilled, we will indeed be able to regain our strength. The first matter of business on his list, it would seem, would be the complete and utter destruction of your family. And thus, an unholy alliance was born."

Raphael listened to all of this, aghast. "Great," he muttered, slapping his hand against his forehead. "So apparently we kicked the butt of someone who decided to go and beg the help of a bunch 'a self-centered pixies."

"Faeries," Kaldus corrected. "I'm not personally related to any pixies, thankfully."

"Whatever," Raphael moaned.

"Though, it _is_ rumored that Cousin Tinia is part imp."

"Hey, this might come as a surprise to ya, pretty boy," Raphael interrupted, "but I'm kinda workin' on a tight schedule, so limit the family history. This imposter's got my girlfriend wrapped around his finger, and he's probably aimin' on makin' his move in the next two days. Wanna elaborate on what old arch nemesis I gotta go tackle?"

"And he says _I'm_ part of the self-centered race," Kaldus sighed. "To answer your question, I'm afraid I don't know the identity of the miscreant who started this entire affair. Only those who are members of the Royal Circle have actually seen him."

"Oh fantastic, so we've probably beaten him once," Raphael told him, crossing his arms over his chest, "but I'm pretty sure that whenever we kicked his can, he didn't have no stinkin' faeries muckin' it up for us!"

"This much is true," Kaldus proclaimed. "But there is some vestige of hope. Although I cannot directly use my magic to aid you—since that would result in a most disagreeable punishment once my treason has been discovered—I will do all I can to leave signs that this 'Vincent' is using a borrowed glamour spell. You see, these spells are imperfect, and once someone can spot the imperfections, the entire charade falls apart like shattered glass. Once this evidence has been placed before all those under his influence, they should be released from his enchantment, weakening the glamour spell."

"Wonderful," Raphael replied sarcastically. "And how the heck am I supposed to know how many people Vincent's affected? I know he's got my girl and two of my brothers. How many people at that convention did he infect?"

"Less than you would imagine," Kaldus answered. "You see, though the glamour spell upholds an illusion for all to see, 'Vincent' is not exerting his limited energies to _enchant_ everyone who catches a glimpse of him. It's only for very specific people, people for whom this plan has been set."

"But hold on," Raphael brought up. "If Vincent's really related to you guys, then what's the big problem? Just slice 'n dice him with that iron knife Donnie brought and-"

"Ugh, iron," Kaldus shuddered. "Most effective against faerie folk. From what I've heard, one of your friends seriously injured a Royal Soldier earlier today. He was forced to disperse before the aversion could hold. Yes, very good if you want to keep one of my kind away. However, you already seem to have forgotten that 'Vincent' himself is _not_ a faerie. He is simply borrowing our magic. His glamour will hold true until his false form comes into direct contact with iron, and that will only make his true form show through. Once he knows he has been discovered, he will strike quickly and fiercely."

"So if we got rid 'a him once," Raphael mentioned, "we can do it again. Just let me throw some iron on 'im and get a good look at who he really is, and then-"

"It may not be so simple, my friend," Kaldus returned. "Firstly, if he is in a public place, revealing his true form there would be exceedingly cataclysmic for all those innocents who will be caught in the subsequent battle. Secondly, he has been seeing my people's healers for quite some time now as he formulated his attack against you. This means that he not only has a well thought-out plan for your demise, but he has also been considerably strengthened and has a host of powerful allies. If fighting him before was a difficult chore for you and your warrior clan, then I fear it may only be worse now."

Raphael cringed as he looked down. "Oh, I really hope it's not the Shredder. That would suck. A lot. And if it's that Stockman twerp or one of those stupid Triceratons… oh man, I'm really gonna hate figurin' out who this creep is."

Offering Raphael a wry look, Kaldus remarked, "I was not aware you had so many enemies. Perhaps the hostility of this world is not limited to humans, as my people have come to believe."

"Hey, I'm a peace-lovin' guy," Raphael stated. "I love my enemies… in pieces."

Kaldus winced. "Your use of verbal puns reminds me of why we faerie folk rarely delve into the realm of humor. All attempts seem destined to fail."

Raphael stepped back as the wall behind Kaldus seemed to disappear in a gray light. His voice grave, Kaldus told him, "Go back to your allies and do what you can to make sure they remain your allies. I have gathered a small group of those who oppose the methods of the High Councilmen and the Royal Circle. We will watch you and hope for the best."

As Kaldus turned away, Raphael reached a hand out towards him. "Hey! Waitaminute!" Kaldus peered at Raphael over his shoulder. "How come you're helpin', huh? If these are your people and ya risk gettin' in trouble for treason or whatever, why are ya takin' the chance to keep a group 'a four turtles safe with all these hints?"

Kaldus turned back to Raphael, his long hair billowing in the slight wind created by his portal. "There are two answers to that, my friend. The first is the noble answer: the methods of the Royal Circle have often led to the annihilation of an entire species and _still_ have done nothing to help us. I've realized that should this 'Vincent' get his way, my people may finally gain a _slight_ reprieve, but the rest of the world will suffer greatly. And though we may be 'self-centered,' sir, I find that just a little _too_ heartless for my tastes."

Turning back to the portal, Kaldus threw in, "The second answer is a bit more personal. The Royal Circle must be overthrown. I am the only one with the bravery to attempt such a move. This is only one of my many steps to prove myself correct, which will hopefully lead to the first-ever faerie revolution. I suppose you can call me a modern, liberal-minded sort of mythical creature."

Without so much as a closing salutation, Kaldus walked through the portal and was gone. With the portal closed, Raphael was alone in the dark alley. He blinked several times, peering around to be sure that no one had stumbled across them and overheard. He suddenly remembered about the lack of stragglers in the food court, and figured that he wouldn't have to worry about witnesses.

"Heh," Raphael murmured to himself with a small smile. Though his head hurt from all of the new information he was given, he couldn't help but remark, "Kaldus the Crazy Communist. Gotta admit, it's got a nice ring."

Knowing he had been gone long enough, Raphael slipped down the sewer and headed for home.

* * *

"Well, look who finally showed up." 

Raphael rubbed his shoulders as he entered the lair, waving an arm at Leonardo reproachfully. "Whatever, Leo," he told his brother. "Can ya just give me the abridged version of the sermon? I've had enough people talkin' at me to last me until the end 'a the month."

Leonardo closed his book, his gaze soft. "No worries on the lecture front, bro," he said. "I'm just glad you're back in one piece. Given the way we said our goodbyes, I was starting to get a little worried."

Raphael blinked at Leonardo, surprised by the humble tone he was using. He knew that he had hoped that his brother had calmed down as much as Allison had, but he had never known Leonardo to back away from a spiel about tact and responsibility. "Okay, who are ya, and where's Leo?" Considering the recent talks of faerie magic and imposters, Raphael was only half-joking.

"Hey, Raphie's back!" Michelangelo called out from his room. Balancing the bowl of fruit on his head as he came towards them with his sketchpad, he asked, "What do you think? If I can't draw 'em, _wear_ 'em. Chiquita Banana lady, eat your heart out." With that, he picked off a grape and popped it in his mouth. "Hey, speaking of ladies," he brought up, "did ya talk to Allison, bro? Did ya make up? Were there muchas smooches involved?"

Rolling his eyes, Raphael shoved Michelangelo, causing him to stumble as he flailed to catch the fruit bowl. "Well, at least Mikey's the same as always. Kinda wished I got to see the fighter in him, but I'll take what I can get."

Knowing that his angry outburst with Donatello still affected Michelangelo, Leonardo quickly brought up, "By the way, Donnie wanted to talk to you. He's in his room right now, playing with that silly trashcan lid."

"Wonderful," Raphael muttered, not willing to bring up the alliance he had with Donatello in the wake of recent business. "Probably wants to test one 'a his new crazy experiments on me." Leonardo and Michelangelo said nothing as Raphael made his way up to Donatello's room. Raphael found their silence odd.

"Yo, Donnie," Raphael called as he knocked on his brother's door. "Open up, man. Heard ya wanna talk." He heard the familiar sound of a blowtorch from within the room and wondered what his brother was up to. It didn't take long for Donatello to open the door and let Raphael in. "What's the plan, Donnie?"

"Hold on to your shell," Donatello told him as he hurriedly closed the door. "You'll never believe what I found!"

"The real Vince Grayson's been dead for years and the guy we met today is usin' faerie magic to wear his face." Donatello blinked at Raphael's quick answer. Almost pouting at not being the first to discover this, he asked how he knew. Raphael smirked and replied, "A little faerie told me. Turns out that they ain't _all_ bad guys. Just most of 'em."

As Raphael gave Donatello a summary of his meeting with Kaldus, his eyes wandered over to Donatello's worktable. A few of the turtles' spare weapons were splayed out on the table, along with the tattered remains of the trashcan lid. When he finished, he motioned over to the mess. "What's goin' on? Thought Case wanted ya to make a shield or somethin' outta that."

"It's got a better use than a shield," Donatello stated proudly, walking over to the table. "Especially after what you just told me. After running some tests on it, I found out that it's not galvanized aluminum, like I had thought. Care to take a guess?"

"Can we really be that lucky?" Raphael asked hopefully.

"Luck doesn't have much to do with it," Donatello explained. "Iron is one of the most commonly-used metals, which explains why faerie legends have lessened since the Industrial Revolution. Since it's not pure iron, I'm having some trouble shaping it to my needs, but I think we should be ready by tomorrow."

"Ready?" Raphael asked. "That sounds like a plan, which is soundin' like music to my ears. Tell me what ya know." Donatello looked at him, telling him that based on what Kaldus told him, they would have to be extremely careful. They couldn't afford to get any convention goers hurt or to underestimate how powerful this mystery enemy had become since the last time they fought. "Careful?" Raphael inquired with a grin. "Careful's my middle name, Donnie boy."

Donatello made a worried sound. "Fantastic. I can see the headlines now. 'Horrible Disaster at Comic Convention. Bloodshed Blamed on Psychopathic Turtle!" Raphael punched him lightly in the shoulder, telling him that if he wasn't careful, there'd be two more brothers unexpectedly fighting.

Remembering about Leonardo and Michelangelo's strange behavior earlier, the turtles quieted down as Donatello posited a strategy.


	8. Chapter 8

As she walked towards her table Saturday morning, Allison felt jittery.

"Jittery" wasn't a word that she would use to describe herself most of the time. Even before she started taking ninjutsu lessons with Leonardo, Allison had never been an overly-skittish woman, which is probably what made her and Raphael a good match. She never paid attention to "bad feelings" or "strange misgivings." This morning, though, was different.

Maybe it had something to do with what she had read the night before. After Raphael left her apartment, she did some digging around her old books. She knew that something strange was going on, especially when Raphael came with an unexpected gift and an enigmatic weapon, and so she wasn't going to let this one just slide. When she found a book that she had received as a Halloween gift entitled _Monsters: An Investigator's Guide to Magical Beings_, she finally figured it out.

Allison sat at the table, her bag still slung over her shoulder. Robert was nowhere to be found, and it was after ten in the morning. The convention was almost in full swing. Where on Earth could he be? As she took out her cell phone and hoped that he wasn't still sleeping, she heard him cry out to her. "Don't call! I'm here! I made it!"

Robert dashed up to Allison, taking off his jacket as he went. Standing, Allison asked, "Rob, what happened? You're never late!" She got distracted, however, when she saw who was following Robert. It was her father, and he was carrying Robert's toddler.

"I know, I know," Robert said, throwing his jacket over his chair. It was obvious that he had overslept and was feeling terrible about it. "My alarm didn't go off, and I had completely forgotten that Jeanine cancelled on me, so I started freaking out about what to do with Rosalind. I decided to bring her over here, hoping it wouldn't be too much of a hassle. Luckily, your dad and I were coming in at about the same time, and he offered to watch her over the course of the day."

"It's no trouble," Vincent said with a small smile. "If I couldn't be there for Allison, it's the very least I could do." Allison's agitation began to drift away at the sound of his soothing voice.

"Come here, Ros," Robert told his daughter as he scooped her out of Vincent's hands. "Now I told you, Daddy's going to be working for most of the day, so you're going to be real good to Uncle Vincent, okay?"

"I hope you don't mind," Vincent told him, "but I've taught her to call me 'grandpa.' She's such a precious little thing." Robert's eyes quickly went to look at Allison, and he noticed a small blush rising to her face. "As long as my arms are free," Vincent continued, "can I request a hug from my little girl? I'd better enjoy it now before one of your admirers decides to actually turn me into a grandfather."

Still feeling awkward about the fact that her father chose to view Rosalind as a grandchild, Allison stepped out from around the table. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that for a while yet, Daddy," she said as she hugged him. "Raphael and I've made up, and I don't think he's in any mindset to-"

She stopped, alarmed by the sudden outcry her father made. "Daddy?" Pulling away from him, Allison saw that he was hunched over, apparently in pain. "Daddy, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Do we need to call a doctor?" Robert asked hurriedly, putting a hand on Vincent's shoulder to steady him. "I've got my car right outside in the parking lot; I can just bring it around while Allison stays with Ros-"

"No, no, I'm all right," Vincent insisted, standing straight once again. He shook his head, looking a little perplexed. "That's… that's odd. A sudden cramp. That's never happened to me before." As he spoke, his eyes wandered over to look at Allison, who was clutching her bag against her chest.

"I… I'm sorry, Daddy," Allison whispered. "Did I do something? Do you have some kind of condition or something…?"

Vincent laughed, already seeming to forget about it. "Now, now. That's not the most tactful way to bring up such a personal question. But since you ask, no. It was probably just a momentarily pinched nerve or something like that. The human body's susceptible to random bouts of pain, especially at my age."

"Hey, you crazy kids!" They turned to see Michelangelo and Leonardo approaching. Shoving a spoonful of strawberry ice cream in his mouth, Michelangelo asked, "What's shaking?"

"Mike," Allison began as the turtles approached, "where in the world did you find ice cream at _this _time of day?"

"More importantly," Robert interjected, looking at the ice cream with a hint of revulsion, "how can you _stomach_ ice cream at this time of day? The last thing I need is for a couple of guys in turtle costumes to teach my daughter poor eating habits."

"Hey!" Michelangelo exclaimed, seeing Rosalind. "It's mini-bud! She's so big! Hiya mini-bud! Remember me? It's Uncle Mikey!"

Robert blinked. "When did you meet Rosalind?"

"We _haven't_," Leonardo almost spat out, nudging Michelangelo hard in his side. "But Allison talks about her so much, and we've seen so many pictures of her that it _feels_ like we've met her. _Right_, Mikey?"

"Oh yeah," a wide-eyed Michelangelo replied. "Totally. Because we never met _you_ until yesterday, so how can we meet Rosalind before then? Right? I mean, I'm sure Rosalind feels like she knows us, too, because Allison must always talk about us and show her pictures of us, ri…." Michelangelo's voice trailed off when he saw Allison rubbing her temples.

"_I've _never seen any pictures of you guys," Robert realized. "In fact, I don't even know what you look like underneath the masks. Hey, any chance of me catching a glimpse of your real faces before the weekend's over?"

"Speaking of," Michelangelo started, but stopped. "Uh, that is, not speaking of real faces or anything, but of the weekend… actually, no, not speaking of that. Because, uh… what I meant to say was… speaking of people we never met until yesterday, uh…." Whispering to Leonardo, he asked, "Help me out here, bro. What's my line again?"

Dutifully ignoring his brother, Leonardo turned to Vincent. "Good morning, Vincent. The rest of my brothers should be coming along shortly. They've got something they'd like to say to you."

"Leonardo," Allison said reluctantly, remembering about the lecture that Raphael had thought would await him upon his return to the lair. "You didn't say anything to Raphael, did you-?"

"Don't worry, Allison," Leonardo assured her with a small smile. "As surprising as it might be, both Donnie _and_ Raph feel bad about the way they behaved yesterday, and have promised that they're going to make up for it."

"That's thoroughly unnecessary," Vincent asserted. "They were simply concerned about my daughter's well-being. I would hardly feel right about accepting an apology from them for that."

"Would it make ya feel better if it were a begrudging apology?" Raphael asked as he arrived on the scene, his arms adamantly crossed over his chest. Donatello stepped up besides him, giving his brother a stern look as he awkwardly adjusted his bag around his shoulders.

"Raph, remember our talk," Donatello told him warningly. Looking back to Vincent, he said, "Like Leo said, Mr. Grayson, we're sorry. I guess Raph and I have become so used to being Allison's only family that we let ourselves become blinded by suspicion just because her _real_ family came back into the picture."

"Uh, hello?' Robert murmured, raising his hand. "Best friend for the past four years, here. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Maybe," Michelangelo joked, "but _you_ don't run the risk of becoming the in-laws!"

Raphael growled threateningly. "Mikey, I swear, you get me annoyed today and I'm gonna take that bowl of ice cream and-"

"Raph," Allison interrupted. "Honey, darling… can you come over here?" Raphael blinked up at her, unsettled by the sudden use of pet names. With a glance towards his brothers, Raphael walked past the small gathering in front of the _Sewer Dwellers_ table and stood in front of Allison as she reached into her bag. He noticed that she kept the table between them, which he didn't take as a particularly positive sign.

She withdrew a black paperback book and tossed it onto the table. "Page 100," she said matter-of-factly. "First column, last paragraph." Raphael lowered his eyes and saw that the book was entitled _Monsters_, with some sort of subtitle that he couldn't make out. Without a word, he picked it up and thumbed through the pages.

When he got to the page she had pointed out to him, he read the passage to himself. _"It's worth noting, finally, that at least in traditional faerie lore, human beings are by no means powerless against the activities and illusions of fays. The most potent tool in the human arsenal is iron, which repels fays and can kill them if it is brought suddenly into contact with their bodies."_

Realizing that she had indeed figured out why he had given her the iron, Raphael looked back up at her. In her hands, she had the white cloth with the dagger inside. "Thanks a lot, Raphael," she told him a little bitterly. "And here I thought we had an understanding."

"Allison," he whispered, seriously hoping that the others weren't witnessing this. "Put that away. You're gonna need it later."

"I'm not planning on fighting faeries," she told him levelly as she removed the white cloth. She slid the blade across the table. As he took it in his hand, she added, "Apparently, _you_ are. So have fun fighting them on your own."

"What's that?" Raphael flinched as he heard Vincent's inquiring voice from behind him. He gripped the knife in his hand and was about to pivot when two things stopped him. One was remembering that the weapon wouldn't be enough to kill Vincent and might force him into a battle that he wasn't ready for. The other was a look at Allison's enraged eyes.

"Do it," she breathed quietly through clenched teeth. "Right here, right now. And I'll show you just how well your brother has trained me."

Her words weren't so much a threat as they were a promise. The thought of fighting Allison while also having to fight whatever was underneath the Vincent disguise chilled Raphael to the bone. After a long moment of silence, he finally released his tight grasp from around the dagger's hilt and let it clatter onto the table.

"Just a rusty knife," Raphael muttered to Vincent without looking at him. Dropping the book as he walked away from the table, he added, "I thought it'd be a nice addition to your kid's human arsenal… but I guess she don't need it."

He rejoined his brothers. It didn't escape his or Donatello's notice that Vincent's back straightened when he caught sight of the discarded weapon. Vincent turned his face just enough to glimpse Raphael from the corner of his eye. "_You_ bought her this?"

"Yeah," Raphael answered gruffly. "Wanna make somethin' of it?"

"Raph!" Leo hissed. "We talked about this!"

"Not at all," Vincent replied. His voice sounded nonchalant enough, but there was something about his posture that was indicative of discomfort. "I'm just surprised by the unusual choice of weaponry. It doesn't look particularly ornamental, but it also doesn't look like it can do any harm."

"Oh, I'm willin' to test that theory-" Raphael managed to get out before Leonardo grabbed his arm.

"It won't be doing any harm at all," Allison declared, grabbing her book and putting it back in her bag. "Raphael and Donatello seem to have been under the impression that it would protect me from something, but they realized that they were just being silly. Pass it back to them, Daddy."

"Yeah, _Daddy_," Raphael blurted out. "Go ahead and pass it back."

"Raph," Leonardo said, clearly losing his patience. "I swear on everything we hold dear that if you _dare_ mess things up with your big mouth, I'm going to make whatever you were going to do to Mikey seem like child's play."

"Boys, boys," Vincent said, flashing them a small smile. "Why are you fighting again? Just let it go. I've already accepted Raphael's personality for what it is. It can't faze me, especially if there's something within him that Allison finds so endearing." Raphael noticed that Allison rolled her eyes as she sat down. "Besides," Vincent went on, "I probably shouldn't hold dirty steel if I'm going to be carrying a baby around with me all day."

Raphael and Donatello blinked in surprise when Robert handed Rosalind over to Vincent. "What?" Donatello asked. "But… why can't Rosalind stay here at the table? Or come with us? We'll take good care of her."

"For sure," Michelangelo agreed. "We've done it before… uh… with _other_ kids."

"No offense," Robert told them as he moved to sit besides Allison, "but I got to talk to Vincent a little longer than I did to you guys. That, plus Vincent's not wearing an awkward costume."

_Oh, the irony_, Donatello whined within his head as he watched Vincent play with the curly-haired blond in his arms. Seeing the innocent girl laugh while in the embrace of some unknown creature made his stomach turn. "Allison," he finally managed to say in an effort to change the subject. "What was that book you just showed to Raph? It looked interesting."

Allison regarded Donatello with a trace of suspicion, which she immediately felt sorry for. It was a perfectly innocent question, especially for Donatello. "It's a book on monsters," she relented. "The magical kind, not the normal kind." Realizing that Robert and Vincent may find that strange, she quickly amended that with, "But then again, what kind of monsters _are_ normal?"

"Oh, I don't know," Robert answered, going through her bag and retrieving the book. It was a bad habit of his to root through her things without her permission, and Allison found it especially annoying right now. Looking at the mostly-black cover with the illustrated yellow eyes, Robert mused, "We encounter monsters every day, don't we? They might not always have sharp fangs or long claws or scaly tails or anything, but you can't deny that some of the people we pass by on the streets and in the subway are downright monstrous. Maybe it's because of a mistake they made in their past or because of an immoral thought that just won't go away. Whatever the case, you won't know who the monsters are until you manage to see just underneath the surface. After all, the word monster comes from the Latin _monstrum_, which means to reveal or uncover. Hence the word 'de_monst_ra_t_e.' In the end-"

Robert stopped when he noticed that the turtles, Allison, Vincent, and even Rosalind seemed to be gawking at him. "What?!" Robert cried out. "Just because I'm not the writer, I'm not allowed to know stuff? I know stuff! I know plenty of stuff! I just like to draw, okay?"

"Dude," Michelangelo remarked, "I totally hear ya on that score."

"I think Robert's inspired me," Donatello said only somewhat sarcastically. "I have a sudden urge to read up on what the experts have to say about the subject. Mind if I borrow it for a while, Allison? There's a panel at eleven-thirty that I want to go to, and I don't have any more money to browse through the dealers' room again." Spotting the hesitant look she gave him, Donatello asked, "What? Would you rather me and Mikey get into another scuffle?"

As Michelangelo retaliated, Allison realized that Donatello was right. He hadn't been overtly aggressive the day before; simply unusually defensive. And after all's said in done, wouldn't Donatello prefer to read _any_ book she may have brought with her so long as it kept him from arguing with his brothers? _And judging by the looks Leonardo keeps giving Raphael, _she thought, _they're liable to blow up at each other sooner rather than later._

Allison nodded to Robert, silently telling him to let Donatello have the book. As Donatello stepped up to claim it, Michelangelo moved in behind him. "Whoa, awesome cover, man. Open it up; does it have any pictures of these uglies?"

Elbowing Michelangelo away, Donatello complained, "Move back, Mikey. I don't want you getting strawberry ice cream all over Allison's book!"

"Well, you don't have to get all moody about it!" Michelangelo threw back with a push. Donatello responded with another shove. This one seemed to catch Michelangelo off-guard. His bowl flew out of his hands, covering Vincent's white polo shirt with pink ice cream. "Whoops," Michelangelo breathed, his eyes widening.

As Vincent looked down at himself, dumbfounded, Allison quickly got up. "Guys, look what you did," she scolded. She gently took the laughing Rosalind out of Vincent's arms. "I'm so sorry, Daddy! I think there's a bathroom just down the hall; you should go get yourself cleaned up before it stains."

"I think there was an 'out of order' sign on it," Leonardo said. Giving Michelangelo and Donatello a hard glare, he offered, "Come on, Vincent. I saw one downstairs while Mikey was getting the stupid ice cream to begin with."

"Not my fault!" Michelangelo blurted out, picking up the now-empty bowl and blushing from the attention the debacle was attracting. "You saw that! Donnie pushed me, 'n he-"

"Can it, shell-for-brains," Raphael threw in. "It happened. Say a little eulogy for your dumb ice cream and let the man clean himself off before we gotta convince him that pink's a manly color." Michelangelo was about to say something else, but Raphael quickly turned away. "I got enough of a headache as it is. I'm gonna go walk around. Maybe see if I can find Leo's rejected fangirls and get someone who _won't_ make me feel like I'm makin' one mistake after the other!"

Allison called out Raphael's name as he stormed off, but stopped when she saw Rosalind cover her ears with her hands. "Too loud," the little girl said. "Stop fighting. It's funny. Grandpa's pink."

"Wait… 'grandpa?'" Donatello inquired, his jaw dropping. Did Vincent really manage to convince the girl that he was her grandfather, either by blood or by spirit? They weren't kidding when they called them enchantment spells.

"She's right," Vincent told Allison, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe a nice faded pink will bring out the color of my eyes." Rosalind laughed inexplicably, bringing a smile to Allison's face. She was still upset by Raphael's departing words, but knew that she had a job to do there at the table.

"Go with Leo, Daddy," she told Vincent. Donatello noticed once again that she was falling back to using nicknames rather than her customary use of the full name. "Rob and I can handle Rosalind for a while here. Donnie will go read his book and keep out of trouble, and Mikey can go keep himself entertained elsewhere. _Right_, guys?"

The turtles murmured sounds of affirmation as they went off on their separate ways. Vincent looked back down at Allison. "Sweetheart," he said lowly. "I don't know what just happened between you and Raphael, but if you fight with one another _this_ often, I suggest that you ask yourself if it's really worth it." Not needing to hear her own doubts echoed by her father's voice, she remained silent as she watched him go off with Leonardo.

With a deep sigh, she turned and went back to her seat, setting Rosalind down on her lap. As the child amused herself with blank pieces of paper and the array of sharpies at the table, Robert offered Allison a sideways glance. "You know," he told her quietly, "it's none of my business, but about what Raphael said, about him feeling like he's making one mistake after another… maybe he feels that way because he _is_."

Feeling a migraine brewing over how quickly yet another day turned so sour, Allison reached out and covered Rosalind's ears. "Rob," she replied, trying desperately to keep her voice from shaking. "If you're still attempting to get into my pants, at least have the decency to do it when your daughter isn't right in front of us."

Shocked by her blunt words, Robert didn't know how to respond. He found he didn't have to when Allison knocked the blunt knife that had been left on the table towards him. "And for God's sake," she hissed, "will someone just get this stupid thing out of here?" Not wanting to see her get anymore distressed than she already was, Robert quickly took the knife and put it into his jacket pocket.

Sensing the tension, Rosalind held up her senseless scribbles and proudly proclaimed, "I draw turtles."

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Monsters: An Investigator's Guide to Magical Beings_ is a real book written by John Michael Greer. I've implemented a lot of what he says into my research on faeries and use several of his quotes. It's an interesting, rather New Age approach for those interested in magical creatures, from faeries to spirits to mermaids and beyond. :) 


	9. Chapter 9

"Leonardo," Vincent stated as they walked down the escalator, "has anyone ever told you that you would be a lot easier to live with if you stopped apologizing so often?"

Leonardo laughed warmly at the man's words. "When you start thinking that you're the only one of a group of brothers who has any shred of sense, you get used to needing to apologize for them. I just still can't believe that Donatello would shove Mikey like that. Hostility's never been his game."

After what seemed like a moment's hesitation, Vincent asked, "Could it have anything to do with suddenly spending more time with Raphael? I'm not trying to imply that he's a bad influence, but he does seem to have something of a short fuse."

"Don't worry about any bad implications," Leonardo muttered as they stepped off the escalator and he began leading them to the alternate restroom. "We _all_ know that Raph's something of a hothead, which is what makes me surprised that he's lasted this long with Allison. She doesn't strike me as the kind of person who puts up with much."

"I must admit," Vincent confessed, "I was also quite surprised when I discovered that they were dating. I had hoped that Allison would have been involved with someone a little more steady and patient. Someone like Robert, maybe… or even someone like you."

Leonardo almost stopped in his tracks at his words. "No," he told him, shaking his head. "As good of a student and as caring of a person as she is, it would never work out between me and Allison."

"Is that really what you believe, Leonardo?" Vincent asked. "Or simply what you have _resigned_ yourself to believe because of your brother's relationship with her?" Noticing Leonardo's silence, Vincent quickly added, "Please don't think that I'm playing the Devil's advocate-"

"I don't."

"-but I simply couldn't help notice that, of your brothers, you seem to be the most grounded and constant. Surely, however, it won't be long before someone sees your true worth and makes you as happy as Allison has made Raphael… or, at least, as happy as Raphael _should_ be, had he the decency to acknowledge it."

"It _is _rather pig-headed of him," Leonardo agreed, surprised by the hard edge to his voice. "She's gone through a lot because of him, and all he can do to express his appreciation is to fly off the handle at the slightest sign that she doesn't need him. It-" He stopped, finally coming to the realization that he was ranting. "I mean… wow. I didn't mean that…."

"Of course you didn't," Vincent said patiently. "Raphael is your brother. And even though he can't be everything you want him to be, you must recognize him as such. Even if that means accepting his many faults along with it."

"Vincent," Leonardo mentioned as he opened a door and motioned Vincent inside, "I'm beginning to suspect that you're not all that fond of my brother."

"That's not the case at all," Vincent replied. He stopped, looking down the stairway that Leonardo had opened up to him. "Er, are you sure this is the way-"

"It sure is," hissed Raphael's voice from within. Grabbing Vincent by the collar as he dragged him inside, he added, "And for the record, I ain't too fond 'a _you_, neither." Leonardo winced at the loud cry Vincent made as he stumbled down the stairs and into the basement.

"Uncalled for, Raph," he told his brother as he closed the door behind him and went down the stairs after Vincent. Vincent groaned as he slowly stood up, squinting at the turtles in the scant light that radiated from a single light bulb.

"Maybe," Raphael responded, "but it felt _so_ good to get that outta my system."

"Raphael," Vincent uttered, having to clear his throat. "What's the meaning of this? Why would you— Leonardo, _do_ something about this, please!"

"Actually," Leonardo said, withdrawing a folded piece of paper from his belt, "I think I've done quite enough." Flinging the paper to the stunned Vincent, Leonardo commented, "I'll have to admit, you _did_ almost manage to pull off your little enchantment thing again, but it's so hard to believe a man when I'm carrying around a copy of his death certificate. I must say, you're rather spry for a corpse."

The turtles watched with baited breath as Vincent unfolded the paper and looked it over. Donatello had been "lucky" in being able to access the Waterbury public records office; Raphael chose to believe that Kaldus and his buddies used some of their magic to make sure they got their hands on the certificate. Once they had that, it was easy to completely break Vincent's hold on Leonardo and Michelangelo. Michelangelo was now guarding the doorway with April and Casey, after having shown them proof that 'Vincent' wasn't who he appeared to be. Donatello should be watching for a chance to get Robert away from Allison and do the same to him. Raphael decided that it would be better to tell Allison himself, once they were alone and they dealt with whoever was underneath this macabre mask.

At length, Vincent let out a chuckle. The chuckle was soon followed by another and yet another. "Fantastic," Raphael remarked. "Maniacal laughter. Familiar territory. _Now_ I know what I'm dealin' with." As Vincent hysterically began ripping up the paper, Raphael told him, "Have a field day with that, Vince. We made copies 'a everthin'. So how's about the real you comes out to play before we gotta cut him outta there?"

"Priceless," Vincent snickered. "Simply priceless. And here I thought that the iron in her bag was simply the paranoid precaution of an overprotective boyfriend! I suppose I have that wretched Donatello to thank for this, as I doubt _you_ could have done this on your own. I wouldn't want to keep him waiting on my gratitude."

The turtles were surprised when he suddenly leapt over them, landing on the staircase behind them. "Okay," Leonardo breathed as they stormed up the stairs after him, "whoever he is, he's definitely a ninja."

"Yeah, like that narrows it down," Raphael replied.

They had expected for their enemy to be intercepted at the door, but were dismayed when he simply opened it and sped out. Back in the eerily-empty hall, Leonardo and Raphael each stumbled over something as they crossed the threshold. Looking down, they saw that Michelangelo and Casey were somehow put out of commission.

"Mikey!" Leonardo called out. As he shook his unconscious brother, Raphael tried to move Casey into a sitting position. "I don't get it," Leonardo moaned as they tried to rouse their friends. "Does he have an accomplice?"

"Oh crud," Raphael breathed hoarsely, looking up. "I think he does. And if I'm right, then I'm thinkin' that Donnie's in one heap 'a trouble." Standing, he told Leonardo, "You watch the sleepin' beauties. I'm gonna go in there and grab Donnie and Allison before somethin' happens to them." With that, he quickly ran off in hopes of beating Vincent to the punch.

Leonardo was about to tell him that he should try and get Robert out of there too… but it suddenly dawned on him.

* * *

_Fascinating. Terrifying, but fascinating._

Such were Donatello's thoughts as he read the book on monsters that he had borrowed from Allison. He was sitting on the floor a few yards away from the _Dwellers _table with his shell against the wall, reading intently. He had meant for the book to just be an excuse for him to sit nearby while the others went their separate ways, but he couldn't deny that this book provided an interesting perspective on the creatures that Internet searches had assumed to be mythical.

"Hi." Donatello looked up, surprised to see a young woman waving at him. "I didn't expect to see you guys back here again with the same costumes. Though, you probably worked so hard on them that it'd seem like a waste to wear them for only one day, huh?"

Slowly, Donatello recognized her as the girl with the camera from the day before, the one that had been addressed as Mel. "Oh. Yeah. Ha… feels like I've worked on it my whole life." He resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably when she moved to sit besides him. He shouldn't have even been reading, never mind making small talk with a stranger.

"So, what are you reading?" Mel asked as she snuck a glance at the cover. "Monsters, huh? Do you mean the boogeyman kind of monsters, or some kind of psychological reference?" Her eyes apparently caught the header of the page he was reading, entitled "Creatures of Faerie." Donatello couldn't even answer before she added, "Faeries, huh? Did you know that some people believe that faeries are actually space aliens? Or, rather, that space aliens are really faeries, since faerie legends came first. There's all this talk about the faerie worlds—kinda like _Lord of the Ring_'s Rivendell or Lothlorien—but no one's sure if they mean an _actual _world in terms of another planet, or if it's in another… I guess dimension would be the right word for it. I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry."

"No," Donatello replied. "I mean, yeah, you're rambling. But there's no need to apologize." Allison's book had also mentioned the discussion of the location of the faerie worlds, but the writer had referred to them as being on different "planes." That sounded too mystical for Donatello's tastes, but "dimensions" sounded like something he was a little more used to. "Do you know anything else about faeries?" Donatello asked her. "I, uh… I'm writing a paper on them for a literature class and I'm taking all the info that I can get."

"Well, I don't know if I can be quoted as a reference," Mel laughed. "But let's see what else I happened to have picked up from reading way too many fantasy novels for my own good. I know that faeries are ridiculously powerful when it comes to playing mind games. Just when you think you've got them figured out, they always surprise you. Also, humans can't usually trust faeries because their logic isn't the slightest bit like ours. They're very proud, and any time a human might attempt to interact with the faerie world, it'll be on the faeries' terms."

"What about non-humans?" Donatello interrupted her. She looked at him quizzically before he motioned back to the book. "Well, uh, this book talks about demons and vampires and those kinds of things. So say a non-human entity tries to strike a deal with a faerie? Can they depend on faerie cooperation more than humans can?"

"It… it's possible, I guess," Mel replied uncertainly. "I mean, I'm no expert on the subject, but I've heard that most faeries don't like humans very much. Can you blame them after everything we've done to destroy the planet? If a non-human wanted to hurt one of us, I guess it wouldn't be beyond belief for it to seek out faerie help. They _are_ powerful, like I said. They're just also very tricky. They can be pretty helpful, but they care about their own needs and desires first. I'm guessing that if someone wanted to get on a faerie's good side during some kind of agreement or something, they'd better be sure that they can pay up and meet their end of the deal right away."

Donatello looked down at the book once again. He had just been reading a rather disturbing passage that seemed to connect more things than he would have liked. What Mel was telling him now didn't bode well at all.

"Must be some paper, huh?" Mel asked. "Sounds like a fun course. I've gotta get going, though. My friends have just walked in, and they can't seem to go two steps without seeing something they need a picture of." Standing, she told him, "Maybe we'll bump into one another later. I wouldn't mind being on the other end of the camera for once." With a grin, she waved to him, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

_What time is it?_ Donatello suddenly wondered. Standing, he peered over towards the _Dwellers_ table. Allison was sitting there and talking to two teenaged boys, holding Rosalind in her lap. Robert was gone. _Drat! _Donatello thought as he looked around. _Where did he go? I've got to tell him the truth about Vincent before he starts getting suspicious about why he and Leo haven't come back yet!_

Considering that the convention had just started for the day, the only kind of break Robert could have gone on could have been a bathroom break. Knowing that the nearby restroom wasn't actually out of order as Leonardo had said, Donatello made his way there first.

As he walked to the back of the dealers' room, he couldn't help but notice that there was something strange going on. As though the crowd thinned out as he got closer and closer to his destination. Remembering what Raphael had told him about the deathly-empty food court and street alley during the arrival of one of the faeries, Donatello withdrew his bo. If something was on either his or Robert's trail, he'd have to be ready for it while the others took care of Vincent.

Donatello reached the partition separating the dealers' room from the lavatory area. Peering around, he saw the two doors leading to the men's and women's rooms, respectively. He waited for a while, but no one came out of either. Considering the heavy traffic that always surrounded the ladies' room, Donatello knew that something was up. _Gotta be careful_, he told himself as he warily made his way towards the men's room. _If faeries are as good at messing with minds as this book says, then I can't even trust my ninja training to tell me when something's- _

His thoughts froze when he felt an arm go around his throat and a damp towel go over his mouth and nostrils. The move caught him off-guard, and he realized that he had taken a deep breath in surprise. _Chloroform_, he realized.

"Vincent told me that you guys were up to something," he heard Robert's voice say from behind him. "I didn't want to believe him, but I don't want to think about what you were planning on doing with that so-called weapon, buddy." Tightening his grip on the turtle as he began struggling in his grasp, Robert added, "Sorry, Donnie. I actually kinda liked you."

_Yeah_, Donatello thought as he began getting woozy. _The feeling was actually kinda mutual… until you snapped and started batting for the wrong team!_ He realized that Robert was still heavily influenced by Vincent's magic and wasn't to blame. His mind was just clouded. As was Donatello's vision.

Just as Donatello felt himself slipping away, Robert loosened his grip. It was loosened so much, in fact, that Donatello felt himself falling forwards, with Robert on top of him. Coughing and breathing in the clean air now that the towel was gone, Donatello slipped out from under Robert and looked up. April was standing behind them, breathing hard after obviously making a considerable effort to get to them in time.

"You know," she said in a wavering voice, "don't tell anybody this, but I think I kind of prefer being the damsel in distress. There's a _whole_ lot less pressure there." As she helped Donatello to his feet, she mentioned, "I was parking the car and when I came in, I couldn't find Case or Mike. I figured I'd come up here to ask you about them, but then I saw Robert sneaking along behind you before the two of you ducked in here. I don't get it. There are plenty of people close enough; why didn't anyone else make a move to help you?"

"Do you have the iron dagger we bought yesterday?" Donatello asked. April nodded, and Donatello responded, "That's probably why. Maybe the iron was enough to make you see through the faerie magic that was being used to keep people from seeing what's under their noses. Or maybe it's just the fact that you _know_ that magic's being used is enough to protect you from it."

"So I'm guessin' Robby didn't get the memo." Donatello and April looked to see that Raphael had joined them and was looking down at Robert's slumped body with disdain. "Great. How long do we gotta wait before we can flash a piece of paper in his face and tell him that his mentor's a psycho faerie buddy?"

"Because I'm sure that having _Donnie_ knocked out on the floor would've made things a whole lot better," April responded, her arms crossed over her chest. "You _try_ to be a hero, and you end up getting nothing but grief. Figures."

"While we're all gathered here together," Donatello said, stooping down to pick up the book he dropped, "I think I've come across some more potentially bad news." As Raphael muttered that _that_ was exactly what they needed, Donatello flipped through the pages until he found what he had been reading earlier.

"You said last night that Kaldus told you that this imposter had promised the faeries a way to revitalize their people," Donatello explained. "I couldn't figure out what that could possibly be, considering that faeries are so magically powerful. But then you mentioned that Kaldus said something about them being a sick and dying race. I… uh… I found this passage and… just… don't run off before I can tell you what I think, okay Raph?"

Raphael didn't answer, not liking the disclaimer that Donatello felt the need to throw in. Despite this, Donatello began looking through the book. "Blah, blah, blah… here it is! The changeling theme: 'a consistent body of tales from many parts of the world, alleging that faeries kidnap human infants to strengthen their own faltering bloodlines. Faerie lore also includes many accounts of adult humans who are abducted by fays or simply visited at night for… uh… .'" Donatello paused for a moment before clearing his throat and quickly finishing, "'…for what amount to breeding purposes.'"

No one said anything for a moment. Donatello finally risked a glance at Raphael. His jaw was set in a hard, firm line as he thought about what this meant. "Okay," he lowly told Donatello. "Tell me what ya think." Donatello could tell by Raphael's tone that he was doing an exceptional job at keeping his anger reined in.

"My theory," Donatello said, speaking quickly before Raphael couldn't keep his rage back any longer, "is that whoever this 'Vincent' guy really is, we beat him pretty badly. And like most of our enemies, he was out for world domination. So he sees us as one of the only things standing in his way between that and his goal. Once he got to the faeries, they decided that if he succeeded in getting rid of us and controlling the world, he could definitely help them out with their illness."

"The entire resources of the world," April realized. "All of them set aside to help find a cure, free from any contamination by humans. Because the humans are going to be used for… for genetic research. The babies will be used as changelings, and the adults…." She trailed off, both out of horror and because she didn't think it needed to be said.

"And to make sure that he and the faeries are still on good terms," Donatello added, "'Vincent' might be planning on offering them something in return until his takeover comes to fruition."

"Rosalind," Raphael breathed. "I saw the way he was playin' with her. Give 'em a kid to use for… whatever… and the faeries will know that he'll only give 'em even more once he gets what he wants. It's sick." Having packed his real sai instead of the plastic ones today, he took them out and gripped them tightly as though for comfort. "Y'know, I suddenly know what Kal meant when he said that this Royal Circle needs to go down. And I'm more than willin' to knock 'em down a couple of pegs."

Before Donatello or April could stop him, Raphael ran off towards Allison's table. "Wait there," he called to them when he saw that April and Donatello were about the chase after him. "Watch Robby. I'm gonna bring Allison and Rosalind back to ya before Vincent can-"

He stopped, catching sight of the _Sewer Dwellers_ table. There were a couple of guys looking through the portfolio of Robert's artwork, but… no one was sitting there. His throat dry, he hid his sai and approached the two teenagers. "Hey," he told them. "What happened to the girls that were sittin' here?"

One of them looked up at him while the other seemed to ignore him. "She went on a break," he answered. "Her dad came by and said they needed to talk about some important family business. She said she'll be back soon."

Raphael took a step back, cursing at himself for choosing to follow after April instead of checking in on Allison first. He saw Leonardo running towards him, followed by the dazed pair of Michelangelo and Casey. "What's up?" Leonardo asked. "Where's Allison?" Gritting his teeth, Raphael turned back to the table and was about to pound his fist down on it when Donatello pulled him away.

"Relax," Donatello murmured hurriedly. "Keep your head on straight, or we're all doomed." Catching the worried looks from the teenagers as they inched away, Raphael willed himself not to yell, though he was literally seeing red. "I left April back with Robert," Donatello continued. "I figured that she could handle him and tell him the truth once he comes to."

As Donatello let go of Raphael and started going through his bag, Michelangelo asked, "Did you get the cameras set up, Donnie?"

"Yeah," Donatello replied, taking out something that looked like a PDA. "While everyone was distracted with the ice cream, I got the turtle-cams up on three different points. Just let me rewind them and hope that they actually worked."

While he fiddled with that, Michelangelo asked, "Why does everything we own have 'turtle' or 'shell' in it? Turtle-tracers, the shell cell, the battle shell. I mean, can't we have any normal stuff?"

"Right," Leonardo replied, answering Michelangelo in hopes of easing his mind. "Four overgrown ninja turtles are just going to go into a local Radio Shack and ask for high-tech security equipment. Donnie builds this stuff himself. 'Turtle' is kind of what it is."

"I like calling them Don-devices, myself," Donatello added. "Sounds classier."

"Donnie-cam?" Casey asked, scratching his head. "No thanks. It sounds like a severely screwed-up version of the websites that April says I ain't allowed to look at."

Just as Raphael was about to snap at all of them for their inane dialogue, Donatello murmured, "There." Raphael leaned in besides Donatello, observing the footage of Vincent heatedly speaking to Allison. "I can't get any audio, but it doesn't look like we'll need it. Leo, get out the ether energy detector. Let's see where Allison's run off to."

As Leonardo took out the device that Donatello had given him earlier, the group followed Donatello as he traced Vincent and Allison's steps. They eventually found themselves in a back hallway. The machine in Leonardo's hands started to beep loudly. "Whoa, Donnie," Leonardo called. "The readings on this thing are crazy."

Donatello told them that this was a sign that faerie magic had recently been used. Raphael was able to go one better. Seeing that the wall at the end of the corridor seemed to shimmer, Raphael edged towards it and stuck his hand out. It went through. "A portal," he muttered. "He took 'em to the other side."

Leonardo wondered why it hadn't closed up yet. Donatello theorized that maybe Vincent wanted Robert to follow after he was done getting all of the turtles. Michelangelo gulped and added, "Or maybe he wants _us_ to follow." Raphael remained silent. Something told him that that wasn't the case. It was Kaldus again, using his magic to help them take "Vincent" down.

Raphael once again withdrew his sai. "Hey, Raph," Casey started. "I know it's a dumb question, but what exactly do ya think you're doin'? Shouldn't we go load ourselves up on magic charms or somethin'?"

The plan had called for them to fight Vincent in the basement, where the lead pipes and other such things would help keep him from summoning his faerie allies. Seeing that Vincent had opted to take the fight into a less conducive playing field, Raphael thought more about Allison and Rosalind than about sticking to any cockamamie plan. "I'm gonna go get my girlfriend," he whispered. With that, he disappeared through the portal.

After sharing anxious glances, Casey, Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Donatello followed suit.


	10. Chapter 10

"Daddy? What's going on? Where are we?"

Holding Rosalind in one arm, Allison had allowed her father to drag her through the convention center until things started looking weird. And "looking weird" was initially in reference to them having walked through a wall, never mind what awaited them on the other side.

The convention center had faded away into a nebulous world where Allison's spatial judgments were constantly tested. A strange purple/magenta light shone from everywhere and yet nowhere at once. Rosalind seemed enchanted by the pretty radiance. When that thought sprang to Allison's mind, she had to shake her head, trying to forget everything Raphael had insinuated and everything she had read the night before.

_No_, she had to tell herself. _No, no, no, no! Get it together, Allison. There's gotta be a completely reasonable explanation for… for… for why your father has led you through a portal into another world after claiming that Leonardo and Raphael just attacked him._ She didn't understand why Leonardo would do such a thing given his vehemence against Raphael's behavior, but there was something else she didn't comprehend. If two ninjas had seriously attacked him… how was he still walking?

"Daddy, okay, whoa. Stop. Let's just stop a second. I'm starting to feel a little… really, let's just stop and go over this for a second." Despite her pleas, Vincent didn't halt until they began approaching a small, strange-looking figure. Allison stopped moving her feet, but she was amazed by the sheer strength the man that she thought of as her father displayed as he effortlessly dragged her along.

"You've brought the girl," said the short, gaunt creature. Allison cringed as it seemed to look at her hungrily with its large silver eyes. "Good. The Royal Circle will be most pleased to see that you have kept your end of the bargain so far."

"Never mind that," Vincent told him. Allison noticed that his voice had changed somewhat, turning into a sort of raspy hiss. "The magic you've given me is beginning to wear off. At least three of the turtles are aware that something is afoot, and this woman is beginning to show signs of resistance. As far as I know, I've only complete control over one of the humans, and I can't trust him to carry out-"

"Your difficulties in wielding this magic are of no concern to us," replied the creature without a hint of emotion. "Let me have the girl, and we shall see what can be done to replenish your magic. Still, even if we reverted your glamour to full power, there is little need for it. Your enemies are on their way here even as we speak."

"Then give me _another_ type of magic!" Vincent hissed. He turned to Allison, who flinched at the thought of being handed over to this strange being. She was surprised when Rosalind was pulled away from her and given over to the creature instead. "Here is the child, as promised. Give me what I ask, and I'll see to it that you get the woman, as well."

Allison tried to reach for Rosalind, but Vincent held her back. The creature regarded her curiously. "I find it amusing," he told Vincent, "that you believe that _I_ can't see to it that the woman comes with me."

"Trust me, ain't nobody goin' with you, faerie boy!"

Allison turned around at the sound of Raphael's voice. She cried out his name and meant to run to him, but Vincent kept his arms around her. "You'd do well to stay your distance," he said as he spotted the rest of the turtles and Casey Jones following behind him. "You wouldn't want me to break her little heart."

He reached a hand into her button-down sweater, meaning to clutch for her heart. He stopped suddenly, his hand encountering something unexpected. He tried to let go, but his body suddenly didn't want to cooperate. Allison found herself grateful for not returning Raphael's turtle pendant.

Seeing this as his opening, Raphael ran towards the two of them and sent a flying kick at "Vincent's" head. Allison fell to her knees, throwing her arms up over her head as a bright light started coming from her "father's" hand. As Raphael crouched besides her and shielded her, a strong wind began to pick up. "What the heck is going on?" Allison screamed over the gusts.

Instead of answering, Raphael only hunched over her even more. He knew he should have tried to get her out of there, but he didn't want to admit that he had actually hurt his foot upon impact with the pseudo-Vincent's face. Considering the fact that that had never happened before, Raphael had the feeling that once he got a glimpse of this guy's true form, he was going to wish he had bit through the pain and ran as fast as he could, pulling Allison along with him.

"Oh man," he heard Michelangelo remark. "Not you. I thought when we pulled you and the Daimyo's son apart, you disappeared into the middle of Oblivion or something. Can't you bad guys ever just _stay_ dead?" Though he knew who Michelangelo was referring to, Raphael spun around.

Straightening himself behind Raphael and Allison was the dragon creature known as Drako.

Allison made a startled sound in the back of her throat. Raphael looked down, seeing her wide-eyed expression as she stared at the creature that had masqueraded as her father. "D…Daddy?" It broke Raphael's heart to hear the tremor in her voice.

Both of them cried out when Drako quickly lunged for them, grabbing them each by the throat. "A heartfelt moment," he murmured, "between two heartless little children." To Allison, he proclaimed, "You've fulfilled your purpose. Enjoy your life with the faeries." He offered her no other words as he flung her aside, sending her flying towards a group of small fays that were approaching.

"Bud!" Michelangelo called. As Raphael struggled against Drako's grip, Michelangelo and Casey raced over towards Allison. She was dazed on the ground, unaware of her present danger as Michelangelo took out his nunchucks and Casey readied a couple of golf clubs from his bag.

Casey noticed that the faeries hesitated when he took out his chosen weapons. "That's right, punks," he told the creatures that cringed as he swiped his clubs through the air. "These are what they call nine-irons. Who's up for a round on the puttin' green, huh?"

Michelangelo noticed that the small faerie that had taken Rosalind was running away, using the confusion around him as cover. "Hey! Mini-bud! Hold 'em back, Case. I've got a rescue to pull off!" He was already on his way towards Rosalind as he spoke.

"Mikey!" Donatello called. "Wait! We can't afford to split up! If the faeries-"

"Go get 'im, Donnie!" Casey yelled back. "These gooks ain't goin' nowhere so long's I keep these clubs out. I'll stay with Allison while you and Mikey get the kid back!" Though it was against his better judgment, Donatello nodded and ran after Michelangelo.

"Nice surprise, Drako," Leonardo stated as he took out his swords and rushed the dragon. "You didn't exactly come to mind when Don gave us the rundown last night, but I know one thing; it could have been a lot worse than _you_."

Leonardo didn't even see Drako move a muscle before Raphael was hurled towards him, his brother's hard shell knocking the wind out of him. With a groan, Raphael rolled off of Leonardo, saying, "Y'know, the next time ya yell at _me_ for stickin' my foot in my mouth, bro, I'm gonna remember this."

"Watch out!" Leonardo yelled as he grabbed Raphael, the two of them rolling away from a bright blue energy blast. "Gather your strength," he whispered to Raphael, noticing his loud groan. "I'll do all I can." With that, he rose and ran for the dragon again, this time adjusting for Drako's enhanced speed.

He parried his swords with two beams of energy that Drako manifested in his claws. "Love the new toys," Leonardo grunted as he bore down on his opponent, "but we didn't come here to play."

"Pity," Drako snarled at him. "_I _did." Leonardo was surprised to be suddenly pushed back with an unexpected amount of force, barely having the time to arch away from a swipe of Drako's claws. The split-second in which Leonardo was distracted with defending himself was all Drako needed to knock one of his swords out of his hand. Drako then punched the turtle away soundly. "Pathetic. Even when you claim to band together, you couldn't be further apart."

"Wanna reevaluate that, creep?" Drako managed to look up just as Raphael's fist slammed into his face, knocking him back. As Leonardo regained his balance, Raphael said, "Not like I woulda listened to ya otherwise, Leo, but I noticed that we're stretched a bit too thin for one of us to just take a five-minute break." Finally noticing that they were the only ones preoccupied with Drako, Leonardo realized that he was right.

Meanwhile, Michelangelo and Donatello chased after the lone faerie that was making off with Rosalind.

"Okay," Michelangelo huffed as he maneuvered through the unfamiliar landscape, "once I get my hands on that little brownie, he's _so_ going down! It's bad enough he's messing with people's minds and stealing kids, but making me twist around in this stupid obstacle course is earning him one _shell_ of a butt-kicking!"

They stopped in their tracks after reaching the peak of a strange incline. Below them, they saw that the faerie had been joined by scores of his kind, every single one of them bearing at least one weapon. "Urk," Michelangelo whimpered as he put a hand on Donatello's shoulder. "Why do ya let me talk, Donnie? Why do ya _always_ let me talk?"

"You're a regular jinx, Mikey," Donatello murmured, troubled by how drastically outnumbered they were. "If we manage to live through this, remind me never to spend time with you ever again." The two turtles tensed up as the faerie they had chased after issued a command that the others seemed to take as an order to attack.

They were both surprised when the air in front of them seemed to tear open as a tall woman stepped onto the scene. The charging faeries halted in their steps. Noticing the sudden trepidation radiating from their enemies, Michelangelo asked under his breath, "Whoa, who's the babe?"

Before Donatello could tell him to keep quiet, the woman took a step towards their opponents, pointing at them with a large, intricate staff she was carrying. "Mordam! Return the child to her people, and this shall be relatively simple!"

Mordam—as he was apparently called—seemed to shield the distressed Rosalind from the woman. "This is _not_ your fight, Jidara! Go back to your home and let this pass!"

"This has been my fight since Kaldus opened my eyes," Jidara insisted. "The child goes home. _Now_!" Because they were behind her, Michelangelo and Donatello didn't catch the green flash of her eyes. But they did see what she managed to do when she slammed her staff down into the ground.

Both turtles thought that their vision was doubling before realizing that there was nothing wrong with their eyesight. It was as Donatello heard the boys in the Wi-Fi room talking about; Jidara seemed to split herself into numerous versions of herself that flooded the land around the turtles. Donatello had the distinct feeling, however, that these "fakes" could probably inflict wounds every bit as painful as the original. Otherwise, the other faeries wouldn't be so worried.

Dozens of Jidaras turned to look at Donatello and Michelangelo. "Take the child," her amplified voice told them in surround sound. "I will take care of the rest." With speed that impressed even the two trained ninjas, Jidara and her clones sprinted down the incline in full attack mode.

The turtles blinked down at the ensuing fight, stunned by the unexpected assistance. Finally, Michelangelo spoke. "Why do I have the sudden urge to yell, 'This is Sparta?'" Donatello withdrew his bo, telling his brother to focus on the task at hand instead of making pop culture references. As they ran down in an effort to grab Rosalind, Michelangelo remarked, "Sorry, bro. It's what I do."

They had to duck and dodge numerous blows from the faeries, but most of these were aimed at one of the Jidaras who were doing an impressive job at evening the odds. Once he had a clear shot, Michelangelo thrust one of his nunchucks at Mordam's feet. With a short cry, the faerie stumbled onto his side. It looked like he was going to turn in an attempt to attack, but Donatello got to him and shoved his bo into his stomach. "We keep the kid," Donatello told him levelly. "And you keep your vital organs. Sound fair?"

Mordam said nothing as Michelangelo plucked the weeping Rosalind from his arms. "There, there, mini-bud," Michelangelo cooed. "It's okay. That was just one of Santa's _naughty_ elves. We'll have a talk with the management at the North Pole."

She put her small arms around him as he attempted to calm her down. "Uncle Mikey, too much fighting. Make it stop."

Michelangelo's eyes lit up. "Hey! She _does_ remember me!" Donatello commented that that was impossible, since she hadn't seen them since she was just a few months old. "Well then, Allison must talk about me. Nya-ha, I _knew_ I was her favorite turtle! So what if-"

"Mikey, duck!" Knowing that Michelangelo wouldn't have the time to follow his orders, Donatello pulled his brother down and quickly turned. Half a dozen arrows hit his shell, driving him to the ground. Mordam used this to his advantage and threw a powdery substance in the turtle's face as he rolled away. Donatello cried out as he tried to rub the dust out of his eyes.

"Donnie!" Protecting Rosalind after remembering that they were in the midst of a battle, Michelangelo crawled towards Donatello, who was now on his knees and making disturbing sounds of distress. "Donnie, whoa! Thanks, bro! From where those arrows were coming, they would've gotten a lot more than just my shell." He put a hand on one of the arrows and attempted to pull it out before hearing the noises that his brother was making. "Don? Donnie, what's wrong?"

"Mike," Donatello said in a low voice as he turned to him. "I'm trying hard not to worry, and I really don't want _you_ to worry… but I'm thinking that our situation got just a little… worrisome." His hands warily reaching out for Michelangelo, he whispered. "I can't see. I… I think I'm blind."

Michelangelo shuddered. Donatello? Blind? In the middle of an epic battle? He was a sitting duck out here. Looking up, Michelangelo saw that Mordam had gotten up and ran away. He stood and was about to chase after him when he heard Donatello call to him. "Mikey? Are you still there? Oh shell. Mikey?"

Crouching down, Michelangelo muttered, "Yeah, yeah I'm here, Don. Right here." When Donatello clutched his arm, Michelangelo knew that he couldn't get involved in the fight. Not only did he have Rosalind in his arms, but he couldn't just leave Donatello alone. Ninja or not, this was _not_ an ideal place for a blind training session. Mostly because it couldn't rightfully be called "training." If more of those arrows started flying…. "I'm staying right here, Donnie," Michelangelo repeated. "You, me, and Ros. Don't worry."

Donatello tried not to panic. Still, he couldn't ignore the fact that going blind had always secretly been one of his worst fears. Without his sight, how could he read? How could he program his machines? How could he be a fighter? _Don't panic,_ he told himself even as he gripped Michelangelo tighter. _Don't panic, don't panic. Not panicking. Okay, a lie. Totally panicking._

He was dismayed when he almost cried out as a smaller hand touched him. "Is he hurt?" Donatello recognized the timid voice as belonging to Rosalind, and realized that he wasn't in any danger. Michelangelo had Rosalind and would stay there to watch both of their backs. "He can't get hurt here. This place is magical. Just like in stories."

"Reminds me of why I hate magic," Donatello muttered.

"I'm never gonna want to read another _fairy_ tale as long as I live," Michelangelo stated.

Looking around to keep an eye on their surroundings, Michelangelo was surprised to see that Jidara had taken care of all of the opposing faeries. He saw no bodies littering the floor, but that didn't make him think that there were no casualties. For all he knew, Jidara probably lost a couple of her copies in the skirmish, too.

Michelangelo watched as one of the Jidaras walked back to the staff that she had jammed into the ground. When she took it and uprooted it, all of the other Jidaras seemed to collapse back into her. "Whoa," Michelangelo breathed again. Worried, Donatello asked what the matter was. "Nothing dangerous," Michelangelo attested. "Just cool. _Really_ cool. Hey Donnie, I want a staff. Let's switch."

Jidara turned to the huddled turtles, her green eyes shining and her braided black hair in disarray. "You," she called to them. Michelangelo noticed that she was breathing hard. Apparently, faeries were subject to fatigue. "I told you to take the child and leave. What are you still doing here?"

"Uh, we kinda hit a snag," Michelangelo replied. He looked back at his brother as Jidara made her way towards them. "Trust me, I don't wanna be in this place any longer than I _have_ to be."

"I would think that your shells would provide you with protection," Jidara said disdainfully as she crouched behind Donatello and looked at the arrows protruding from his shell. Donatello tensed up when he felt one of the arrows being brusquely pulled away. "If they only provide larger targets, then I am amazed that evolution has not fazed them out."

"Evolution doesn't really figure into the equation, where _we're _concerned," Donatello told her. "Regardless, the arrows are the least of my problems. How good are you at reversing blindness spells?" Though he couldn't see it, Jidara had stopped what she was doing and looked at him curiously.

"Blindness spells?" Jidara asked. "Other than glamour and replication, I am afraid that my magical knowledge has its limits. I am a fighter, not a magician. Perhaps if it were an immediate glamour trick, I would be able to assist you."

"Look," Donatello told her, trying not to get testy, "I don't know _what_ it was. All I know is that that Mordam guy threw some powder in my face, and now I can't see anything. If you can reverse it, then hey, I'd really appreciate it."

"Dude," Michelangelo said to him quietly. "Don't get touchy. We already came to the conclusion that ticking off the faeries is a _huge_ no-no. So while you're doing a Daredevil impersonation, cool it on the Raph-speak, okay?"

"Mordam," Jidara uttered with distaste. "He is an anxious little fool, a lackey for the High Councilmen. I doubt that the powder was anything other than a defensive measure to allow him to escape." She continued speaking as she plucked the remaining arrows from Donatello's shell. "In the case of an immediate glamour trick used for defense, the victim experiences a physical disability that terrifies him, making him believe that he is too lame to fight. The effects are only illusory… but I'm afraid when it comes to a manifestation of blindness, that doesn't help."

"Great," Michelangelo remarked as he set Rosalind down on his knee. "So he's not really blind; he just _thinks_ he is… which kinda makes him blind for real. Gotta love faerie magic, bro. It screws you over no matter _how_ you look at it. That is, uh… if you _could_ look at it."

"I would hardly consider it magic," Jidara told him as she wrenched the last arrow out. "It is a simple parlor trick and requires no real skill. My people tend to favor more elaborate, elegant means of exhibiting our abilities."

"Oh," Donatello commented, "you mean like making us want to maim one another as we bicker because you were protecting an evil dragon that's tried to kill us and who once also stole the Time Scepter and the War Staff to wreak havoc upon our lives? Yeah, real elegant."

"My people had _nothing_ to do with the Deceiver's return to your world!" Jidara cried out. "It was the High Councilmen of the Royal Circle that decided to aid him in the hopes of revitalizing our race. Because our numbers are so few, those who wish to rebel against the Royal Circle could do nothing to stop him. We could only hope that someone would be able to defeat him before he sacrificed the humans to meet his own mad desires. Because of who we are, we could not make our move until now."

"Want to explain that to me?" Michelangelo asked. "And real slowly, like I'm only as old as the kid in my lap. Because if you guys are as super powerful as I just saw, then I don't think you're as close to Death's door to warrant needing a whole planet conquered to meet your needs. Sounds a little like overkill to me. Or… over-survival, I guess."

"And I would agree with you," Jidara nodded. "My family, however, does not see it that way. You see, I am Jidara of the Royals, and have watched countless efforts on the parts of my family to save our kind. It did not take me long to see that their methods were all doomed for failure. Even when they knew this, they still pressed on, not wanting our people to lose hope. I have come to the conclusion that it is not the despair of our people that they fear, but their disapproval. We have watched the human world for centuries and know too well of the ground-breaking consequences of a revolution, and my family does not wish to lose its power to the masses. After Kaldus attempted to assassinate my brother, I saw that this revolution was standing right at our doorway. I struck a deal with Kaldus, granting him release from the dungeons with the promise that he will make no more rash moves, and that the rebels remain quiet until we have all agreed it was within our best interests to strike. It was not long afterwards that the Deceiver found his way to our lands, and we knew that we could keep silent no longer. Though we could not use our powers to directly aid you while you waged battle with him in your world, bringing the fight here will enable us to show the people his true colors and reveal just how faulty the Royal Circle is. We will defeat this Deceiver, and we shall have our revolution. I can only hope that things continue to go as well as they have been so far."

"Okay, two things," Michelangelo immediately said. "First, I just gotta say that I _love_ the idea that the weirdness over the past couple of days is due to us being caught in the middle of a faerie civil war. And please note the sarcasm in my voice. Secondly, yeah, things are going pretty well. I mean, Donnie's blind and Allison is probably emotionally scarred for life and hey, maybe Leo's lost a leg by now."

"Mikey," Donatello growled warningly. "And you tried to tell _me_ not to get touchy."

"Point is," Michelangelo continued, "this is way over our heads, lady. We don't mind fighting wars for other people; heck, we've been there and done that. But look at this. There's a two-year-old sitting in my lap who's got no clue about what's going on. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"It is for _her_ that I fought this recent battle," Jidara told him, her eyes looking down at Rosalind. Michelangelo saw that she actually appeared to have a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Long have my people taken infants from the other world and raised them as our own. _I_ was one such infant. And though I am grateful for the knowledge and power that I would never have possessed had I been raised a human, I realized that this was horribly unjust to the parents who had their babies replaced with a sickly faerie, only to suffer as they watched it die days later. I suppose it took becoming a mother myself for me to make that realization."

Jidara gripped her staff and rose to her feet. "Come. We cannot stay here. The Royal Soldiers will undoubtedly be here soon. I can handle Mordam's kin, but I cannot defeat the very warriors that trained me. We must go back to the Deceiver and do what we can to keep him in one place. Kaldus and the others are gathering our people and bringing them to see the horror that the Royal Circle has unleashed upon the human world. Once that has been set, we can destroy the Deceiver and this will be over."

Michelangelo lifted Rosalind and helped Donatello to his feet. Donatello mentioned, "Yeah, that's great and all, but I'm still kind of a little on the sightless side. You assumed that it was a glamour trick and said you could help out if that were the case. Would you like to take a crack at it?"

Jidara peered at him for a moment before answering, "From what I've heard, your intelligence is formidable. As such, you should realize that glamour tends to fall apart once you know that it is merely glamour. Free your mind of its fear of blindness, and your sight should return to you. If you cannot, then I'm afraid there is nothing I can do for you."

As Jidara began walking, Michelangelo took Donatello's hand and led him along. "Free your mind," Michelangelo snickered. "Why can't she just tell you to choose between a red pill and a blue pill?"

"Pop culture references, Mikey," Donatello grumpily reminded him. "Stop making them."


	11. Chapter 11

_Oh, this is gonna hurt._

Such was Raphael's thought as he flew headfirst towards an embankment, having been thrown by Drako. He managed to shield the impact to his skull, but it definitely made him a bit dizzy. _Ugh. Gotta get up. Gotta go help Leo until Donnie and Mike get back. Gotta…._ He groaned as he rose to all fours, briskly shaking his head and trying to get his act together.

"Hey!" Raphael looked up at the sound of the voice as a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look up. He was shocked to see Robert standing in front of him, his hair disheveled and his eyes wild. "Where is she? You little _freak_, Vincent told me you were evil, but I never expected this! What did you do to my daughter?!"

Realizing he was still under Drako's spell, Raphael put his hands over Robert's, meaning to calm him down. He stopped when he touched something warm and tacky. Looking down, he saw that Robert's hands were covered in blood. Looking back up at him, he noticed that there were also bloodstains across his cheeks. It didn't look like the marks on his face came from any of his own injuries, though.

"Where's April?" Raphael asked, remembering that Donatello had said that he had left her with Robert. "What'd you do to April?" Robert tried to push him down, but Raphael pulled his arms away and shoved him backwards as he stood. "You psycho, what'd ya do to my friend?"

"Your friend?" Robert nearly screeched. "My _daughter_! Where is she? And what have you been doing to Allison; what could she possibly see in some sneaky, jealous little low-life like _you_? It's no less than hypnotism, I know that. I know that for sure." He reached into his inner jacket pocket, making Raphael tense up. When Robert took out Allison's iron dagger covered in blood, Raphael thought he was going to be sick.

"Okay," he snarled at Robert. "This has gone beyond ya just bein' the victim. Now you ain't no better than any other punk that messes with my family. If April ain't breathin', I swear to whoever's listenin' that I'm gonna personally-"

"You're going to what?" Robert screamed. "Brainwash my best friend? Kidnap my daughter? From the looks of it, you can't do much worse than what you've already done."

"I'm tryin' to _save_ your kid, got that?" Raphael yelled back. He waved his arm behind him, at the battle between Leonardo and Drako. "See that? That thing walkin' on two legs even though it looks like somethin' that lurks around a medieval castle? _That's_ Vincent! _That's_ what he really looks like! And you gonna take what _he_ says as gospel?"

"I'm not falling for anymore of your lies!" Raphael had to duck as Robert struck out with the knife. He realized that the man meant to take off his head. Whatever Drako had done to him while they were alone, it was definitely hardwired into his brain. "Enough hiding behind masks, you little bastard! Let me see who you really are, or I'll rip that head off myself after I lay you flat!"

Between his injured foot and his ringing head, Raphael knew that he was too overburdened to waste too much time with Robert. If he didn't want to listen to reason, then Raphael would have to put him out until they could talk things over a little more civilly. "Sorry, Rob," he told him. "Despite what ya think, I don't hide for nobody."

Robert swung out with his knife hand again, but Raphael grabbed it and pushed against a pressure point that made Robert release the knife. With Robert preoccupied, Raphael hit him in the back of his head with the handle of his sai. Robert fell to the floor, unconscious once again.

"Rob!" Raphael turned to see that Allison had noticed their brief struggle and had left Casey behind, racing towards the pair. Raphael tried to say something, but Allison pushed him away and knelt besides Robert. "Oh my God," she whimpered, seeing all of the blood involved. "Oh my God, oh my God."

"Allison," Raphael said, trying to explain. He stopped when he saw that she noticed the iron knife. Her breath became erratic as she reached out for it, and Raphael feared that she may be hyperventilating. Kneeling besides her, he tried to put an arm around her. She suddenly turned and slapped him hard across the face. In spite of everything she had gone through, Allison's strength was still intact. His stinging face did little to help his buzzing head.

"You… you hurt him!" Allison accused as tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "He… what did… oh God, what the hell did you _do_ to him, Raphael?" Her voice rose in pitch as she threw herself at him, pushing him backwards and falling on top of him. Clenching the knife and holding it poised above his face, she continued to shriek at him. "What did you do, you… you… why? _Why did you have to hurt him?!_"

"Kid," Raphael stated lowly. "That ain't his blood on that knife. It's April's." Allison stared down at him, dumbfounded. "_He_ used it to hurt _April_. I only put him outta commission for a bit so he won't do somethin' like that again."

"You're _lying_," Allison told him in a wavering voice. "You're just trying to turn me against him. You just want me to have no one to turn to except you. You didn't accept Robert, you couldn't accept Daddy-"

"Did ya get some brain damage or somethin', kid?" Raphael asked heatedly. "Look around. This is where your 'Daddy' brought us. Look up just behind us and you'll see Leo gettin' his shell kicked by an ugly overgrown lizard. His name's Drako, honey, and _that's_ who your 'Daddy' really is. For once, I was actually right, and you were wrong. I kinda thought that bein' the smart one wouldn't be as complicated as all this."

Allison blinked as she took a moment to observe her surroundings. Raphael regarded her with a little more sympathy when he realized that she really _had_ been dazed. Maybe her brain just couldn't take it. Maybe she knew there was something off this entire time, but she wanted so badly to believe that she had a chance at having a family again that she allowed herself to ignore the evidence. Raphael wondered how strong that desire for a family was, and if he would be able to break through it and get her to see the facts.

"No," she finally said, even though she was looking up at Drako as she spoke. "No, it's not true." Her eyes went back to look at the knife. Raphael noticed that her hand was trembling as she looked at the bloodstains on the blade. "I've known Robert for years. He wouldn't hurt April. He _can't_. He can't bring himself to hold a knife on someone. That's just not him."

"And you're tellin' me that _you'd_ normally hold a knife on somebody?" Allison looked down at Raphael at the sound of his voice. "Kid, you've been played. Badly. I don't much like it, but ya gotta see… it's the truth. I may be a lot 'a things, but a liar ain't one 'a them."

"You lie all the time," Allison told him. "You lie about who you are and what you do with your life. You hide behind shadows and don't let anyone know the real you-"

"Kid," Raphael said, "name one lie I've ever told ya. Just one." Allison stopped to think it over, and Raphael shook his head. "What Rob thinks about me and the guys is just what ya felt ya needed to tell 'im. I don't lie, kid. Least of all to _you_."

"You're lying now," Allison insisted. Raphael found that she didn't even seem to believe her words; she simply needed to say them. "Robert wouldn't hurt anyone. He wouldn't draw blood. He wouldn't fight. He's a good person. A good… what are you _doing_ to me, Raphael? Why are you making me think that… that…?" Her voice trailed off as her tears started to fall freely.

Raphael watched with concerned eyes as she put her hands over her ears, as though trying to block out a voice within her own mind. He risked slowly sitting up, seriously doubting that she would take his movement as an excuse to stab him. Putting one of his sai down, he put an arm around her as he began to speak.

"I think I finally figured it out, kid," he told her quietly. "I think I know why you still wanna believe what 'Vincent' told ya. It's because we didn't find that flaw. That one major flaw that's supposed to make it all fall apart. We found a bunch 'a little things, like his cologne and… and other stuff. But it didn't have nuthin' to do with that. The real problem was that, in this world that he created and wanted us to live in for the past couple 'a days… we were supposed to hate each other. It all relied on us hatin' and not trustin' one another. But in the end… it just never really worked out that way. Because the fact of the matter is, Allison… we _love_ each other. And there ain't no spell that's powerful enough to ignore that. It can warp love, and it can taint it a little, but it can't just erase that altogether. You can't do what he wants ya to do, because even underneath all 'a that fake hate… you love me. And you know that I love you, too."

He kept his eyes fastened on her, hoping to get through to her as he had done the night before in her apartment. He didn't know what Drako had managed to do to warp her perception of reality, but Raphael was determined to talk to the Allison he knew and not just some brainwashed incarnation of her.

She turned to look at him, still seeming torn. He flinched when she pushed him back down. Grabbing his sai, he got ready to parry the knife before she could do some major damage. He was surprised when she got off of him and ran off.

Leaning up on his elbows, Raphael looked up. The faeries that Casey had been holding off had broken through. Though Casey did all he could to keep most of them from interfering with Leonardo and Drako, that didn't keep a few of them from heading straight towards them. Raphael cringed when he saw Allison jump into the fray, still not sure whose side she was on.

Seeing two of the faeries headed towards him, Raphael quickly got to his knees and ripped off his leather wristbands. The faeries each grabbed one of his wrists, only to be horrified as they turned to dust. "Yeah," Raphael muttered, "did I forget to mention that Donnie made us iron wristbands?" Pushing himself to his feet, he murmured, "Fashionable _and_ effective."

Leonardo made a disappointed sound when his second sword was thrown out of his hand. Looking back to Drako, he didn't have the time to move away as a large hand came down and knocked him to the ground, crushing him. _He's gotten bigger_, he realized as he tried to squirm out of Drako's grasp. _It has to be a result of faerie magic. If I can just get out the iron shuriken that Don fashioned for me, I might be able to get him back to normal size. _

"Struggle all you want, you little pest," Drako told him, bringing his face down close to the turtle's. "Two of your brothers abandoned you early on, and those that remain with you have more pressing matters to deal with."

"How's _this_ for a pressing matter?" Drako looked up just in time to see Allison drive her iron dagger into the arm that was pinning Leonardo to the ground. "The age of damsels in distress was over about five hundred years ago, just like the fear factor of evil dragons!"

Drako screamed in pain and outrage as the iron affected the magic that he had been utilizing. While he was distracted, Allison helped Leonardo to his feet and asked if he was all right. "Yeah," Leonardo answered as he withdrew his custom-made shuriken. Looking around, he asked, "What about everybody else?"

Keeping an eye on the shrinking Drako, Allison answered, "Raphael's injured, Rob's unconscious, Casey's busy, and I don't know where Mike and Donatello a- watch it!" She pushed Leonardo to the ground and attempted to dodge a lunge from Drako. Though she managed to get Leonardo out of danger, she was caught by the collar of her sweater and swung to the floor.

"You little brat," Drako snarled at her. "You were happy enough to go along with it so long as it helped fill a void in your insignificant life. The minute it became painful for _you_, you decided to ignore all of your former mantras on family."

Allison threw a punch at Drako's face. Though he winced, it didn't seem to have much of an effect. "Don't you dare talk to me about family, you creep!" Allison yelled at him. "I _have_ a family, and they're more than I'll ever need to take care of _you_."

"You tell him, bud," Michelangelo cried out as he dove for Drako from behind. The three of them tumbled onto the ground before Drako managed to buck Michelangelo off of him and once again threw Allison aside in favor of fighting one of the turtles. Allison landed hard on her right leg, but still managed to scramble to her feet as she surveyed the situation.

Donatello and Michelangelo had come back from wherever they had gone off to, and they seemed to bring back a friend. She didn't look like the other faeries Allison had encountered, but she couldn't find any other reason behind her strange clothing and apparel. She appeared to be standing guard over Donatello, who was sitting on the ground and hunching over Rosalind. It looked like her identical sisters were taking care of the faeries that had overpowered Casey, throwing them off of him while still trying to avoid the wildly-swinging golf clubs. Leonardo had joined Michelangelo in his fight against Drako, and Raphael was limping hurriedly over towards Allison.

"Raphael!" Allison called. She took a step towards him, meaning to tell him that he shouldn't be walking around with a limp, but her own injury got the better of her, forcing her onto her knee.

"Kid, what's the matter with you?" Raphael asked as he knelt besides her and grabbed her arm. "Why would ya go over there and attack the big bad like ya think ya could take him? If Leo's havin' problems with 'im, why'd ya think that you'd…." His voice trailed off when she looked up at him. If she had any tears left in her system, it was clear that she would have been using them right now.

"Because," Allison replied. Taking a deep breath, she explained, "Because I don't want to live in a world where I have to hate you." Raphael couldn't think of anything to say. She was back. He finally had her back. "I don't want to hate you, Raphael. Hating takes way too much effort. Heck, _loving_ you is hard enough."

Raphael laughed at the lightheartedness in her voice as she offered him a half smile. Pulling her into an embrace, Raphael murmured, "For what it's worth, kid, the feelin' is _definitely_ mutual."

Everyone braced themselves as the ground began to shake. "What's happening?" Donatello asked Jidara. Jidara didn't answer. She had seen one of her faerie kin drive his sword through the ground, rupturing the terrain. "Jidara? Jidara, you still there?"

Donatello received no answer. He knew that he couldn't trust the faeries, but he hadn't expected to be abandoned when he was left defenselessly caring after Rosalind. He stiffened when he heard a sudden sharp cry from Michelangelo. "Mikey? Mikey, what… oh, oh shell."

"Uncle Mikey!" Rosalind cried out. "He's falling, Donnie! He's falling down the hole! Go help him." _Falling down the hole?_ Donatello thought. _What hole? Where? How am I supposed to help him? _

"Rosalind," he told the girl. "Listen to me. I can't see anything. Where's this hole? Take my hand and point it in the direction of the hole, Ros." He felt Rosalind grab one of his hands and held it up somewhere over to his left, pointing his finger at the specific direction. "Are there any bad guys in front of us, Ros? Anyone who looks like they're going to be trouble?"

"Uh-uh," Rosalind replied after a moment.

"What about Leo and Raph?" Donatello continued to inquire as he shakily stood up. "My brothers, do you see them? Or Jidara? Is anyone helping Mikey?"

"Other turtles are fighting the scary thing," Rosalind answered, presumably referencing Drako. "Allison and the tall lady are helping them. Hurry, Donnie! I don't see Mikey anymore!"

Not liking the urgent tone to the child's voice, Donatello picked her up, not daring to leave her alone. Taking out his bo, he used it as a walking stick to make sure he wouldn't stumble over anything as he cautiously made his way towards the direction that Rosalind had pointed him off to. _Can't let Mikey fall,_ he kept telling himself. _If something happens to him just because I was too much of a chicken to make my way over to him…. _"Mikey?" Donatello called as he felt he got closer to the edge of this "hole." He stuck his bo out in front of him, trying to get an idea of the perimeter he was working around. "Mikey, can you hear me?"

"Donnie!" Donatello shuddered at the terrified tremor to his normally lackadaisical brother's voice. "Donnie, get back! Go get one of the others!" Donatello finally found the rim of the gap and knelt by it. He was unnerved by the creak that came from the earth below him. "Hurry it up, bro! Can't hold on much longer!"

Unable to tell how far away Michelangelo was, Donatello thrust his bo down into the opening. "The others have got their hands full, Mikey. Just grab onto my bo and I'll pull you up."

"Don, I know you've got the best intentions in mind," Michelangelo said after a moment, "but you're kinda _way_ off with your depth perception." Discerning that Michelangelo's voice did come from directly beneath him, Donatello lay flat on the ground and stuck his bo in further. "Donnie, it ain't gonna work! You're too far away." Another creak sounded before Michelangelo quickly said, "If everybody else is that tied up, then you shouldn't just be leaving yourself and mini-bud exposed like that. Just get out of here."

"No!" Donatello wasn't going to stand for losing his brother when he was the only one who could help him. He was about to ask Rosalind how far away Michelangelo was, but realized that a two-year-old would know little about distance measurements. Gingerly setting Rosalind down on solid ground, he put a hand on her shoulder and pleadingly told the girl, "Listen to me, Rosalind. I want you to be a good girl and stay here, okay? Stay _right here_! Don't move unless the ground cracks open some more, okay? And if one of the bad faeries tries to get you, I need you to yell out to me. I'm going to go get Uncle Mikey, okay?"

Rosalind nodded. Remembering that Donatello couldn't see her, she said, "Okay." Nodding at her, Donatello dropped his hand away from her and sheathed his bo. He had felt his weapon bump against several crags and outcroppings, and figured that the ground had literally been shredded apart by something. If that were the case, then Michelangelo was probably hanging onto one of the less sturdy ledges and was in no position to get a better grip on something more durable.

"Donnie, what are you doing?!" Michelangelo asked incredulously as he watched his blind brother ease his way into the mouth of the chasm. "Donnie, what-… get back up there! Are you crazy or something? You're in no position to-"

"Mikey," Donatello told him as he slowly reached for a ledge to rest his feet upon. "The more you yell, the less energy you have. The less energy you have, the more likely you are to lose your grip before I can get down there and save your shell. So unless you want this to have been a totally wasted effort, I really need you to keep quiet. For once, our lives actually depend on you being able to _shut up_!"

He didn't like the way his words came out, but they seemed to be effective enough. He heard nothing else from his brother as he stretched down and felt for yet another ridge to edge himself down on. When he found one, Donatello blinked several times. He felt as though he could almost see the outline of each nook in front of him, albeit through a very, very dark film of gray. Not wanting to get his hopes up, he kept quiet as his vision continued to progress as he crept down.

Donatello looked down when he heard a strange noise. At first, he thought that there was something down in the bottom of the abyss, but his eyesight had become just clear enough to make out the shadowy bulk of his brother only a few feet below him. His heart went out to him as he recognized the noises as Michelangelo's scared whimpers. He hadn't heard his brother make those sounds since they were children, and that was only after watching hours of horror movies back-to-back.

Not wanting to risk going down any further, Donatello slowly took out his bo, meaning to offer it to Michelangelo. His brother's scared cries became more audible as the creaking suddenly turned into a _crack!_ Both turtles cried out as Donatello desperately slammed his bo down. He was almost jerked down as Michelangelo managed to grab onto it. Blinking a few times, Donatello could see the look on his brother's face as he dangled over what looked like a bottomless pit. "Heh," Michelangelo remarked. "Never gonna badmouth the bo ever again, bro."

Donatello felt himself grin. Holding on tightly to his ledge, he swung Michelangelo up over him. The turtle managed to grab onto the rim of the chasm and hoist himself up. He looked back down at Donatello and held his hand down. "Okay, swing your bo to my hand," Michelangelo told him. "It's a little bit to your right-" He stopped when he saw that Donatello didn't need any directions. He handed the bo to Michelangelo and held on tightly as his brother pulled him up.

"I can see, Mikey," Donatello told him, breathing hard and smiling when he saw Rosalind hug Michelangelo gratefully. "The glamour trick wore off. I guess I'm just more scared of losing _you_ than I am of losing my eyesight."

Michelangelo gaped at his brother, stunned. Finally, he put a hand to his heart as he said, "Wow, that… that's beautiful, Donnie. Somebody find a fangirl with a camera, because this is definitely a Kodak moment." His hand suddenly reached out and pulled Donatello over towards him, purposely hugging him tighter than he should.

"Mikey," Donatello laughingly choked out, "I'm not above tossing you back in there."

As the two brothers shared a bonding moment, the others had their hands full. Casey, Allison, and Jidara's copies did what they could to keep the faeries back. Leonardo, Raphael, and Jidara dealt with Drako.

"So," Leonardo panted as he dodged another attack from Drako's energy beam, "Jidara, right? If you can… create clones of yourself… _why_ are we still getting this workout?"

Jidara dove to the ground as Drako attempted to strike her with his claws. "My staff is my only weapon. I need to implant it into the ground in order for my replicates to emerge at full strength. However, one of our enemies has corrupted the ground, most likely in a direct attempt to discourage my involvement. I can only create a handful of copies, and I fear that they are not as strong as I would-"

She was cut off when she was hit in the stomach by Drako's tail, sending her flying backwards. Leonardo managed to catch her before she could fall into one of the many openings in the ground. She looked up at him gratefully, but flinched. "There also seems to be a rather large amount of iron in the vicinity, limiting my abilities."

Leonardo felt guilty before Raphael barked out, "I don't care how _limited_ ya feel. Ain't no way me 'n Leo are gonna get rid 'a the only things that make sure that none 'a your kind ends up tryin' to turn us into genetic waste material, got that?"

As Leonardo set her down, Jidara glared at Raphael. "My people have no use for creatures of the reptilian nature." Looking to Drako now, she added, "And that also includes _you_, Deceiver." She ran at him with her staff, striking him in the chest before being forced into a grapple with him as he tried to wrench the rod away.

Leonardo moved to help her, but Raphael stuck an arm out to stop him. "'No use,' huh? If she ain't got no use for us, maybe she'd be better off fightin' her _own_ stupid battles."

"Raph," Leonardo told him disapprovingly, "now is _not_ the time. If we don't take down Drako, then he might just make it back to our world at full power. Can you imagine what he might attempt to do to Sensei?" The thought was enough to send both turtles hurtling towards Drako once again.

"So," Casey huffed to Allison as they fought with their backs to one another, "your friend, uh, back there. He, uh… he okay? I mean, I don't mean to get ya worried or nuthin'…."

Punching away one of the faeries who tried to lunge at her, Allison affirmed, "Rob? He's fine."

"Cuz, uh, that looks like a heck of a lot of blood on 'im."

"Most of it isn't his."

"Whose is it?"

"You got a problem with focusing, Casey Jones?" Allison asked, not wanting to bring up the possibility of April's injury. "Just hit these creeps where it hurts and let me worry about my own buddies, okay? Goongala, and all that jazz."

"Right," Casey agreed, already forgetting their conversation. Smacking away two faeries with his golf clubs, he cried, "Goong-" Allison wondered why he suddenly cut himself off. Asking if he was all right, she risked a glance behind her.

Stumbling towards them was April. She was cradling her left arm against herself, and neither of them had ever seen her staggering so badly before. His eyes widening, Casey cried out her name and ran for her.

"Hey!" Allison yelped as she realized that the clones had been spent. "Hey, you can't just leave me alone to-" She gulped as she looked around at the encircling faeries. She _really_ wished she hadn't dropped the iron knife when she had stabbed Drako. _It's okay_, she tried to tell herself. _You've been training for months. You're a ninja. Think like a ninja. What would a ninja do in this situation? _When three of the faeries grabbed at her, she decided that a ninja would call for her boyfriend. "_Raphael_!"

"I'm right here, kid," Raphael told her even as he slammed his wrists down on two of the faeries' shoulders, turning them to dust with his iron wristbands. "I ain't goin' too far, so no worries. Leo and our new pal seem to have things under control."

Pressing her back against Raphael's shell as they continued to fight, she babbled, "Why couldn't I be training to be a pirate? Pirates would have the sense to run away. Ninjas have that whole honor thing going."

"I thought ya said that ninjas don't have no honor," Raphael reminded her.

Ducking a swing from a halberd, Allison muttered, "You picked one heck of a time to actually listen to me, darling. I'm not in the right mindset to be historically accurate. Kinda have that survival instinct kicking in. Wanna help with that?"

"_You_ were the one jabberin'."

As Allison and Raphael continued their cynical banter, Leonardo and Jidara dared to begin to see an end to this entire affair. Jidara had Drako pinned to the ground, her staff firmly pressed against his long throat. He kept striking out at her, but she bit through the pain as Leonardo swiftly gathered both of his swords and approached them. "Are you certain this will work?" Leonardo asked her.

He was surprised to see beads of sweat on her forehead. "I can sense the iron filaments from here," she told him. "If your brother did indeed reinforce the weapons properly, then it will keep him from ever conjuring my people's magic _and_ from ever breathing again."

"And you would trust this turtle to aim at _me_?" Drako asked in a roar. "He and his kind don't trust you. Not after knowing what you are capable of. If I do not get what I've demanded, you can bet that your pretty little head will be forcibly removed from your body. If not by his hand, then by the hands of the family you chose to betray."

"I am afraid only _your_ head will roll today, Deceiver." Leonardo looked up to see a faerie of similar stature to Jidara leading a large group of smaller fays to the scene. If Raphael had been paying attention, he would have recognized this newcomer as Kaldus. "Do you see this, my brothers? _This_ is the powerful creature that our Royal Circle has been using their resources to aid. _This_ is the great hope for the future of the faeries."

Leonardo didn't know whether or not he should do anything. Michelangelo and Donatello came up behind him, with Michelangelo holding Rosalind. "Uh, what's goin' on, Leo?" Michelangelo asked. "You got your swords ready and Drako's trapped. Hurry up and do something; just let me know so I can cover mini-bud's eyes before you go a-chopping."

Michelangelo received no answer. The faeries that had been fighting against Raphael and Allison had stopped, seeming disturbed by the new arrivals. Grateful for the breather, Allison slumped to the ground, Raphael quickly catching her before she fell. It wasn't long until he had to sit down as well.

"Witness here," Kaldus continued, waving his arm towards Raphael and Allison, "two creatures from the other world, brought to the point of exhaustion while fighting against a clan of Royal Soldiers. Their only wrong was that they cared for one another, and so the Deceiver took this affection and used it as the entire basis behind his plan for destroying a family. A family that wants nothing more than to be allowed to exist. If any of you can find fault in that, please explain it to those of us who do not understand."

Receiving no response, Kaldus turned his attention to the other humans in the area. "Look there, a father driven to violence and insanity simply because those he loves the most are associated with creatures that he does not even understand. And there, the unfortunate woman who was his victim only because she wanted to aid him in seeing the truth. Can you not see, brothers, the pain and misfortune that our abilities are placing upon the poor inhabitants of the other world? Perhaps our children are so ill because our magic has been spent foolishly, causing nothing but the suffering of innocents all along this plane and beyond."

He returned his stern gaze to Drako, who had been struggling fruitlessly beneath Jidara's staff throughout the length of the speech. "If the Deceiver is allowed to live and carry out his designs, then the blood of countless humans will be not on his hands, but on ours. If someone dares to obstruct the turtle from doing what he must, then do it and know that you have no place in the new world which we wish to create."

"And what new world is that, Kaldus," asked a voice from within the crowd. "A world filled with anarchy and disruption? One that does not value the time-honored traditions of our ancestors? Our race is dying, and we cannot risk-"

The voice was cut off by one of Leonardo's blades slamming down through Drako's neck. The faeries froze, Jidara nearly stumbled over the suddenly-lifeless form underneath her, and Michelangelo made a startled sound and covered Rosalind's eyes. "Sorry," Leonardo remarked. "I was starting to get bored."

He sheathed only one of his swords as he stepped out from around Drako, walking towards the group of faerie commoners. Except for Kaldus, they all moved back as though afraid that Leonardo was an uncontrollable killing machine. The speculation amused Leonardo for some reason.

"Look," he told them, "I'm a little new around here. I don't know your ways or customs or anything like that. But Drako—this 'Deceiver,' as he's being called—he was bad news. He stole the War Staff of the Battle Nexus' Daimyo, and he even managed to make off with the Time Scepter, a device that can warp time in ways unimaginable. My brothers and I barely managed to stop him with the help of our teacher and friend. With us out of the picture, what guarantee would you have that he wouldn't attempt to take those tools again and wreak havoc not just in my world, but in _this_ one? How likely do you think it is that he'd give up all of the valuable assets of our world just to honor a deal? Creatures like Drako don't know honor… they don't know love or compassion. The question that remains is: do _you_?"

Raphael stared up at Leonardo as he made his case in front of the faeries. Though he would never admit it, this was one of the few times that Leonardo's obsession with "honor" actually made a good deal of sense in the context. For once, it didn't sound like a lecture from the straight-and-narrow older brother. He actually seemed to be trying to get through to these people. _Funny_, Raphael thought to himself. _How come when he says it to me, it sounds like nuthin' but "blah, blah, blah?" _

"A touching speech," proclaimed a voice from behind the group of fays. They parted as yet another member of their kind stepped towards Kaldus and Leonardo, a broadsword in his hand. "Unfortunately, you _did_ just murder a charge of the Royal Circle, and we place little stock in the words and sentiments of humans, and even less in those that would be considered subhuman."

"Who ya callin' subhuman, ya little priss?" Raphael barked out as he darted to his feet and took out his sai. "Who the heck do ya think you are, bein' all-"

"He thinks he's Isodius," Jidara explained as she rose to her feet. "My brother, and the main representative of the Royal Circle."

"Royal Circle, huh?" Raphael spat out, stepping in besides Jidara. "Oh, I _said_ I wanted to get a piece 'a these goons. Nice 'a ya to drop in."

"Jidara," Isodius went on, as though Raphael had never spoken. "I must say that I'm most disappointed. If not for the fact that our parents dote on you as much as they do, I would see to it that you are thrown into the dungeons, along with your… associate."

"Her _husband_," Kaldus clarified. "We made it official only days ago. A pleasure to be a part of the family, 'brother.'" Isodius moved aggressively towards Kaldus, but Jidara stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

"Jidara," Isodius hissed, "you know full well that it's bad enough that you choose to wage a war so soon after giving birth to a bastard child. After entrapping yourself in a permanent alliance with the whelp's rebellious father, I'm afraid that you have chosen to sever all of yours ties to the Circle."

"I know," Jidara stated proudly. "And I accept the consequences. As do any of the commoners who choose to disavow the Royal Circle."

Isodius chuckled haughtily under his breath. It seemed as though he were about to make a remark, but he stopped. One of the faeries behind him had stepped in front of him, aligning herself with Jidara and Kaldus. Another soon followed, then another. Soon, almost all of the fays that Kaldus had led to the scene had crossed the line. The turtles looked at one another, at a loss for words, and then shrugged. Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello wordlessly fell into the ranks as Michelangelo sprinted to give Rosalind to Allison. When she accepted the child, Michelangelo dashed back and took out his nunchucks, joining his brothers and the faerie dissenters.

Isodius turned to look at how many people were still on his side, then silently counted the remaining Royal Soldiers. Realizing that the odds were not in his favor, he looked to his sister once more. In a low, almost confidential voice, he asked, "You know he's only using you, don't you?"

"Even if that were true," Kaldus inquired, "how would it be different from how you treat our people?"

Isodius chose against answering the question, abruptly putting his sword away. "Enjoy today's victory, my former friends," he told the group as he turned away. "For now that I know who is loyal and who isn't, the war has only just begun."

The turtles watched as Isodius walked back from where he had come. The Royal Soldiers and those faeries that did not change sides spared the group of revolutionaries one more glance before straggling along behind him. When they were finally out of sight, the turtles all breathed sighs of relief.

"So, now that that's over," Michelangelo commented as he peered back at what was left of Drako, "anybody have any ideas about what to do with our old buddy's remains to make sure that he _doesn't_ enlist the help of a bunch of megalomaniac faerie monarchs ever again?"

The fays looked back at the now-headless creature that they had come to know as "the Deceiver." An elderly-looking faerie stepped up and offered, "I can try a dissemination spell. It will dissolve the body until there is nothing left to reanimate."

"And I can do a binding spell," a younger faerie brought up. "That'll make sure that if he ever _does_ come back, he won't bother anyone that can't bring him right back down. Who wants to help? If we work together, the spell will be stronger."

"As will we, Laskan," Kaldus told the young faerie as he put a hand on his shoulder. "So long as we work together, we _can_ get rid of the Royal Circle and build a better future. This much I know."

Leonardo turned to his brothers as the faeries began their work. "Guys," he told them as they put away their weapons and gathered around. "I just want to say… I'm sorry. I said a lot of things yesterday and even today that were uncalled for. I guess-"

"Leo," Raphael interrupted. "Enough. This is startin' to sound like some after-school special about teamwork."

"Yeah," Michelangelo threw in. "Me and Donnie already had our hug time when he got better from being blind. You missed out." Holding his arms out, he added, "I'm up for seconds, though."

Raphael pushed him away, looking at Donatello. "Whoa, you were blind? When did this happen?" Donatello replied that is was something of a long story.

"Not very long at all," Kaldus told them as he approached the group. "From what Jidara tells me, it was merely an immediate glamour trick, the same which was used on your two human friends." Leonardo asked him what he meant. Kaldus responded by motioning towards April and Casey. "Jidara is something of a seer, and she was able to project that your friend faced a potentially violent demise at the hands of the young man who attacked her with the knife."

"Rob!" Donatello murmured. "Did he-?"

"It was only something known as a multiple glamour trick," Kaldus quickly reassured him. "I managed to make both the woman and this 'Rob' think that she had been hurt far worse than she really was. This encouraged her to stop fighting, which made him back away before he could do some actual harm. In reality, she only has a thin scratch along her arm. At worse, she should make sure that her tetanus shots are all in order."

The turtles were relieved to see that this was true. Other than a small bit of blood on the arm of her sweatshirt, April appeared to be more confused than hurt. Casey was grilling her for information, trying to figure out what had happened.

"Heh," Michelangelo laughed. "I thought Jidara said something about it being a simple parlor trick. Woulda thought that a leader of the rebellion wouldn't stoop so low."

"Sir, you insult me!" Kaldus remarked.

"Ya get used to it after a while," Raphael told him dryly.

"It was _more_ than a 'simple parlor trick,'" Kaldus explained. "Both Jidara and I are part human, but having lived among the Royals, she has forgotten how difficult it is for some of us to master magic. I was quite proud of the effects… especially when bearing in mind that both parties had enough iron on them to cause me a considerable amount of effort for something that could normally be done at the snap of the fingers."

Meanwhile, Allison was busy hugging Rosalind, amazed that the little girl ended up being all right. "Where's Daddy?" Rosalind kept asking. "He said he'd be right back. Can he find us?" Allison neglected to answer her, hoping that they could get Robert out of there and cleaned up before Rosalind could see him.

She started when she saw one of the faeries looking down at her. Allison calmed considerably when she realized that it was the woman that had been called Jidara. "Allow me to help you to your feet," Jidara said softly, offering her a hand. "It is the least I can do to reward you for the troubles you have endured."

_If helping me up is a "reward," _Allison thought as she reached up, _then you people are just as self-absorbed as I read about._ She was about to offer a muffled thanks, but the words couldn't form when she made contact with Jidara's hand.

Jidara smiled down at the young woman as she gaped blankly at the world in front of her. The child in her arms crawled away, looking quizzically up at her surrogate mother. Allison breathed deeply, tears shimmering in her eyes as she gazed upon the myriad of images that flooded her mind. She knew that they couldn't be true, but she couldn't deny that… that they felt right. They felt so very _right_.

"What was that?" Allison breathed thinly as she finally allowed Jidara to pull her to her feet. "All that happened… what… how did you…?"

"The 'how' is not important," Jidara told her. "It was a gesture of gratitude."

"Then… then it was real?"

Smiling at her, Jidara whispered, "As real as the child reaching for your hand… and for the children that you will hold in your arms in the future." Seeing a tear fall down Allison's cheek, Jidara brushed it away. "Don't fret, my friend. You will be a wonderful mother. I can see that in the way you show your love… and in the _people_ you choose to love."

"Yo kid, you okay?" Raphael had seen the look on Allison's face and came over to investigate. "You're lookin' a little pale. We're gonna get ya home, okay? I'm gonna go grab the kid's dad; it'd probably be good if ya went ahead 'a me so she don't have to see him like that." Allison nodded slowly, though she didn't take her eyes off of Jidara. Wondering what had transpired between the two women, Raphael went on ahead to get Robert.

"Casey!" Leonardo called. "Come on! Kaldus is opening up a portal for us. It should take us back to the convention center. You can get April in her car and drive her home." As Casey helped April up and began walking towards the turtles, Leonardo turned his eyes to Allison. "Allison, are you okay?"

"She is only overwhelmed," Jidara answered for her. Stooping down, she picked Rosalind up and put the girl in Allison's arms. Allison gripped her uncertainly. "I'm sure she will feel much better once she is back where she belongs."

Leonardo came over to them and gently took hold of Allison's elbow. He was afraid that the events of the past two days would effect her in a way that her other adventures with them hadn't. After all, this is the first time that she had ever been directly attacked at such an emotional level. "Come on," he told her softly as he pulled at her to follow. "Let's go home."

Still stunned by what Jidara had shown her, Allison allowed Leonardo to lead her away. Rosalind put her arms around Allison's neck, waving goodbye to the nice faerie lady that Allison had been speaking to. Jidara smiled at the small girl, her thoughts going back to her own infant that was safely hidden away from the soon-to-be disbanded Royal Circle.

In a low murmur, she said, "Goodbye, my friends."


	12. Chapter 12

"Wha-… who… Allison?"

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Rob," Allison joked. She was kneeling on the floor, smiling up at the man seated in a chair in the back of the turtles' van. "I had hoped to get you tucked away in bed before you woke up, but you must be even more hardheaded than I had thought."

Robert blinked his eyes, trying to figure out where he was. Sitting in similar chairs up ahead and looking back at him were Raphael and Michelangelo. The latter turtle grinned at him and waved the hand that wasn't holding a sleeping Rosalind. "Hiya. Remember us?"

Putting a hand to the knot on the back of his head, Robert asked what happened. Tip-toeing around the answer, Allison replied, "Well, I had to deal with a screaming convention rep who got mad at us for constantly leaving the table without telling anyone and who wanted to know why you were unconscious, and then I had to talk my boyfriend out of making numerous vague threats become a very harsh reality-"

"She's lucky she's good at talkin', too," Raphael commented.

"Then I had to claim that you were epileptic and left your medications at home, and since I didn't want to worry your poor elderly mother, I had no choice but to leave the convention early and make sure you got back safe. Then Rosalind got upset because of all of the bad words the rep used, inciting Raphael to throw in a few bad words of his own-"

"Mine were more colorful," Raphael remarked.

"Then we loaded you into the van and Donatello's driving us to your place where I had intended to nurse you into some semblance of health. You just missed a rather unique rendition of 'Hush Little Baby' as Mike tried to sing Rosalind to sleep, and lo and behold, it actually worked."

"What can I say?" Michelangelo shrugged. "I'm a natural."

Robert looked at each person who spoke, obviously not coming to any sort of understanding. Lowering his hand, he muttered, "I was trying to keep track of the number of things that were wrong with that monologue and the number of ways you successfully made me forget what my original question had been, but I seem to be having trouble processing numbers at the moment. So I'll be a little more clear. _How_ exactly did I come to this state of unconsciousness?"

Allison looked at the turtles, unsure of what to say. Finally, Michelangelo simply replied, "After realizing that you were brainwashed by an evil dragon that came back from the dead to destroy us all, Raph had no choice but to put your lights out before you decided to go for our jugulars."

Robert blinked at Michelangelo, not knowing what he was expected to say. Finally, he told him, "Okay, first you're going to hand me back my daughter. After that, you're going to take the flask that you're hiding in your shell and dump it out, promising never to touch the stuff again. Then you're going to tell me what _really_ happened."

"Rob," Allison said quietly. Robert turned down to look at her, not liking the solemn tone to her voice. "I've been talking to the guys, and… well, there's no way that you could have been involved in all this without ever remembering at least _part _of the truth. And I don't want to lie to you anymore-"

"Anymore?" Robert asked. "I _knew_ it. I _knew_ you've been keeping something from me! Your dad even hinted at it himself-" He stopped, his eyes sweeping the van. Though he could see Donatello and Leonardo in the front, he didn't see anyone else. "Hey, speaking of… what happened to your dad? He wouldn't stay at the convention after both of us left, would he?"

No one said anything for a moment. Finally, Michelangelo piped up yet again. "Remember that evil dragon that came back from the dead to destroy us all? Well… turns out that 'Vincent' was wearing the most realistic-looking costume out of anyone in the convention." He coughed awkwardly, hoping that Robert understood what he meant. Clearly, he did not.

"Look, there's no point dancin' around this," Raphael said as he rose to his feet. Walking towards Robert, he told him, "Rob, there's somethin' that you've been askin' me to do, and I'm just gonna go ahead and do it. Ya wanted me to take off my mask? Fine." He reached behind his head and untied the bandanna. Taking it off, he handed it to the confused Robert. "There it is. The only mask I've ever worn. Everything else that ya see,… this is all me."

Robert looked down at the red bandanna, not quite comprehending. Looking back down at Allison, he asked, "Is this some kind of deep and significant metaphor? Because if it is, I'm not sure that I'm getting it."

"Just shake his hand, Rob," Allison told him. "It's the polite thing to do when you're being formally introduced." Obliging her, Robert reached out and shook Raphael's hand, still perplexed. "Raphael, this is Robert Donnelly, my best friend for over four years. He helped me start out in the movie business, and though we went out on a few dates early on, we've both come to the conclusion that we're better off keeping things platonic. Robert, this is Raphael, my boyfriend for the past six months. We met about a year and a half ago, when he and his brothers saved my life while I was walking home one night. He's a ninja. And he's also a mutant."

Robert's hand stopped in mid-shake, releasing Raphael. Raphael carefully observed Robert's reaction. Leonardo also peered back to see how Robert would take the news. After making a small surprised sound in the back of his throat, Robert pointed to Michelangelo and looked at Allison. "Him too?"

Allison nodded. Michelangelo quickly swore, "But I'm good with kids! Honest! No germs or nothing, regardless of what you might've heard about turtles!"

Robert looked to the front of the van, where Leonardo was gazing at him. Donatello offered him a glance through the rearview mirror. Returning his eyes to Allison, he didn't even have to ask the question. "Yeah," Allison answered. "Them too."

"You're not joking," Robert asked, "are you?"

"Nope."

"They're really four turtles?"

"Yup."

"And we're also standin' right in front 'a ya," Raphael reminded him. "So ya don't gotta pretend that we don't have ears or nuthin'."

"Uh, Raph," Michelangelo was about to bring up. "_Technically_-"

"Shut it, Mikey."

"Four turtles," Robert whispered. He shakily got up and took a step towards Raphael, as though really seeing him for the first time. "Four humanoid ninja turtles… who make wisecracks and save the world from evil dragons. Good God, you guys really _are_ the Sewer Dwellers!"

"Yup," Michelangelo told him. "We were kinda inspirational. Bud couldn't have gotten the idea for her movie without us, and that means that you wouldn't have had that hit graphic novelization out. So we're kinda the reason that you two got invited to NYCC in the first place… which might not be such a good thing, considering the past couple of days."

"Wonderful," Robert murmured. Allison was concerned about the high-pitch tone that edged his voice. It sounded almost like mania. "I owe the majority of my success to… to four humanoid ninja turtles. Ha. Haha." He meant to turn to Allison, but instead lost his footing. He fell into Allison's lap just as he passed out once again.

There was a moment of silence before Allison looked up at the brothers. "I think he's taking it rather well."

"Raph! What are you doing out of bed?"

Raphael looked up from his weights, surprised to hear Allison's voice. She had just entered the lair and was holding a small container in her hand. _Oh, great_, he thought as he put the weights down. _I mention that I'm under the weather for _one day_, and here she comes to return the favor._ "Five sets of twenty," Raphael answered. "Next question."

Allison approached him, annoyed by his flippant attitude. She put a hand on his forehead and inquired, "How's your fever?" Raphael swatted her hand away, not wanting her to know that his case of the sweats wasn't from working out.

"It's great," he replied. "_I_ ain't too good, but the fever's havin' a ball." He lifted the lid on the container, peering into it. "What's this, Florence Nightingale? I thought ya said ya couldn't cook if your life depended on it."

"It's ramen," Allison responded wryly. "Anyone can make ramen. _Rosalind_ can make ramen, if Rob ever lets her in the kitchen. He's always afraid that she's going to blow up the apartment or something. Nervous wreck, that man."

"Yeah," Raphael stated, leading Allison to the sofa. As they sat down, he asked, "How much 'a that is his personality and how much 'a that has to do with what we told 'im?"

"Oh, I don't know," Allison said, handing the container to Raphael as she searched through her bag. "We only told him yesterday, so I'm pretty sure he's still in the denial phase. Either he doesn't remember any of the details from yesterday, or he chooses to believe that what he _does_ remember is actually a remnant of a bad dream." She took out a plastic package containing a knife, fork, and spoon, and a paper wrapper containing a pair of chopsticks. "Conventional utensils or chopsticks?"

"I ain't got the patience for chopsticks," Raphael said as he reached for the utensils. "I woke up feelin' like my head was gonna explode. The only savin' grace 'a the day is that Mikey ain't here to aggravate me. Still can't believe that he and Donnie decided to go back to the convention for the last day."

"Hey, _they_ weren't the ones who got chewed out for not doing their job," Allison told him with only a hint of regret in her voice. "They're just normal teenagers, as far as anyone at that convention knows. Besides… considering the way they had been acting over the weekend, it's nice to see that they've reconciled enough to want to spend some time together."

Raphael said nothing for a moment before asking, "So, uh… we're reconciled too, right? I mean, we both did a lot 'a yellin' and screamin'… actually, we _always_ do a lot 'a yellin' and screamin'. But uh… that thing ya said before about not hatin' me… that still stands, right?"

He was unnerved by Allison's reticence and turned his head to look at her. He was surprised to see that she was gazing at him rather fondly. He was about to ask after her thoughts when she said, "I love you, Raphael. It might've taken extraordinary circumstances to drag that information out of me, but at least I mean it when I say it and I always will. Really."

Raphael offered her a relieved smile. Seeming to remember something, he put the container of ramen on the coffee table and told her, "Stay here. I'll be right back." Though his head was swimming, he managed to get up and turn towards this room.

"Hurry back," Allison called. "I didn't slave over a hot microwave for two minutes just so you could let your food get cold."

She was surprised to hear laughter coming from behind her. Turning, she saw that Splinter was standing at the doorway of his room, amused by what he had just overheard. "It would appear that we finally met someone who is even more reluctant to work in the kitchen than Raphael is," he told her.

As he approached her, Allison remarked, "I think the world would be a nicer place if Raphael were a little _more_ reluctant to work in a kitchen, Splinter. At least I'm well aware of my own culinary limitations."

"It is good to see you in our home again, Miss Grayson," Splinter said as he put a hand on Allison's shoulder. "It has been too long since we have had the pleasure of your company." Allison explained that she had been busy. Being caught up in a huge conspiracy that would have resulted in her being used in a faerie breeding program tends to take a lot out of a girl.

The pair looked up as Leonardo entered the room. "I must say," he told her, "you did exceptionally well yesterday, considering the emotional stresses you were under. It's also nice to see that you don't hate us after the unfortunate truth we discovered about your real father."

Allison looked down. Raphael had told her about the real Vincent's death after he had helped her put Robert into bed. Learning that her father had been dead even longer than her mother wasn't news that she necessarily took _well_, but she preferred that explanation rather than the idea of her father being a dragon bent on world domination.

"Hey," she said quietly, trying to keep the situation light, "when you think about it, this was my best adventure yet. For once, I stayed conscious throughout the entire thing, even if I _was_ brainwashed and a little out of it for a while. Maybe all of that training with Leo has made me stronger."

"Speaking of training," Leonardo said even as Allison realized she shouldn't have brought it up, "when are you coming back for that? You didn't chicken out just because it started getting a little harder, did you?" Allison didn't answer right away. She was somewhat dismayed that training for three hours on a slippery rooftop in the freezing rain amounted to being only a "little" harder. Luckily, she was saved from a response when Raphael came in and leaned against the wall.

"Jeez," he muttered, "I leave her alone for a couple 'a minutes, and she's already got fans all around her. This is what I get for datin' somebody famous." Noticing that Raphael had something behind his back and remembering what day it was, Splinter smiled and told Leonardo that perhaps it was best that they leave the couple alone. After making the same observations as his sensei, Leonardo nodded and allowed Splinter to lead him out of the room. He looked back and offered Raphael a smile and quick wink before disappearing from view.

Allison noticed Leonardo's wink and turned to ask Raphael about it. He had taken the time to sit next to her once again. Before she could say anything, Raphael spoke up. "Look, I really didn't have no money to get ya anythin' nice. I spent the last of it on that iron necklace the other day to protect ya. So even though it might not seem like much, here."

With that, he handed her a plain red journal. Flipping through it, she saw that every page was filled with Raphael's handwriting. "When we first met," he explained, "ya gave me that rough draft of _The Sewer Dwellers_ that ya wrote just before ya left for California. It had all these little notes in it that had nuthin' to do with the script. They were just… little pieces 'a you. And that's when I knew that I was gonna see ya again; because ya gave me a little piece 'a you." Motioning towards the book, he said, "This is a journal that I started the day you left. On some level, I'm pretty sure I always meant for ya to have it. Because when things get tough between us, I want ya to have somethin' to look back on, the way I do. Something that will hopefully make ya remember why we lasted six months, even if not a day after that. So I guess, uh… happy anniversary."

Allison listened to what he had to say, astonished. Raphael didn't seem like the kind of person to keep track of days at all. So why would he…? "Raphael," she told him quietly. "Thank you. I… I don't know what to say. I mean, I didn't figure you as someone who would care about anniversaries."

He looked at her steadily. Finally, taking a deep breath, he said, "I never had a reason to care. Not until one fell on the day you were born." Allison blinked at him, surprised. Had she ever told Raphael that it was her birthday? She couldn't remember ever doing so. "That's the day that really matters, after all," Raphael went on. "Keepin' track of a first kiss or a first date don't mean nuthin' unless you really care about the person you're sharin' those things with. But keepin' track 'a the day that the world got just a little bit better… _that's_ what matters. So happy birthday, kid. And thanks for lowerin' your standards a little."

She was stunned, as she so often was when Raphael proved to actually have a sentimental bone in his body. "Aw, Raph," she laughed. "By the time I met you, I _had_ no standards left to lower." He gave her a hard look, but it melted away as she leaned over to kiss him. "A joke, darling. You _do_ know what a joke is, don't you?"

"Less joking," Raphael told her lowly. "More kissing."

Allison laughed again as she indulged him. As they kissed, she couldn't help remembering the vision that Jidara had given her the day before and that had followed her in her dreams. Was it true? Had she really seen the future? And does it matter? _Nothing matters_, Allison realized. _Nothing but this.__ After all, you never know when your entire world will change and these moments will disappear._

Just as she began to appreciate the thought, she heard Donatello and Michelangelo enter the lair. "Dude," Michelangelo was saying heatedly. "No way! Double K.O. aside, I _totally_ owned you in the video game tourney. You're just acting like a little kid."

Raphael and Allison parted as they looked up at the new arrivals. "Little kid?" Donatello asked. "Who's the one using Internet lingo like it's actual _English_? What exactly does it mean to 'own' someone in a video game, Mikey?"

"Oh sure, you think you're all smart," Michelangelo scoffed. "But when Maxi was beating Kilik's butt-"

"You purposely nudged me so I'd drop my controller!"

"Did not!"

Michelangelo added a shove into his argument, causing Donatello to push him back. Michelangelo then tackled his brother so hard that they both fell over the back of the sofa, practically landing in Raphael and Allison's laps. Raphael angrily pushed them to the floor, asking if they were out of their minds. Leonardo rushed in upon hearing the ruckus and tried to pull his arguing brothers apart.

Allison hugged the journal to her chest as she watched the tangle of turtles arguing over who started it and who was lying just to save his shell. She couldn't help but wonder if they were still under some sort of spell, causing her to chuckle to herself. _Video game tournaments, evil spells, squabbling brothers, glimpses of the future, and surprising sentimentality. And to top it off, the ramen is _definitely_ getting cold._ With an unexpectedly contented sigh, she leaned back in her seat.

_Just another__ day with the family._

END.

**Author's Note:** So, you made it this far, did you? Congratulations! You now get… my gratitude. This is the last of my "Reflections" trilogy, though I'm thinking Allison may reappear once again in a couple of one-shots. Depending upon reader curiosity, I may write some off-shoots based on this story, such as elaborating on Jidara's vision or on what was in Raphael's journal. Only time will tell. Thanks for taking this trip with me, and thanks to Mr. Eastman and Mr. Laird for giving me four of my best friends.


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